


We Keep Taking Turns

by Ropewithnoanchor



Series: Spaces [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Beads, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Banana feeding, Bondage, Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, Breathplay, Canon Related, Choking, Cock Rings, Collars, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub, Edging, Explicit Sexual Content, Forced Orgasm, Fun with headscarves, Harry in Panties, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phone Sex, Porn With Plot, Really adorable gifts, Ring gag, Rough Sex, Shower Sex, Smut, Spanking, they share that really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-03-11 14:45:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 69,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3329945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ropewithnoanchor/pseuds/Ropewithnoanchor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The start of the On The Road Again Tour means new anxieties, this time for both Louis and Harry. Between performances, traveling, interviews, family time, and the biggest crisis their band has ever faced, they have to help each other feel better the only way they know how—through domination and submission.</p><p>[A relatively canon-compliant story of nights in hotels and bedrooms, starting in February 2015.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sleepless in Sydney

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again!
> 
> You don't _have_ to read part one of the series, but there are going to be references to it, so it would help. I finally got Photoshop back, so this story will have much better art than the last one. Also, I'm going to be switching between Louis and Harry's POVs every chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

****

**Saturday, February 7—Sydney, Australia  
** ** _\- Louis_**  -

The high after the first show is always the best, Louis thinks as he and Harry stumble back into his hotel suite. He’s lightly buzzed and Harry is just shy of wasted, having had a little post-show party with the band and crew to celebrate kicking off the new tour. 

Everything is so good right now. He and Harry publicly spent time together in Los Angeles, Harry’s countless frozen yogurt “dates” with Nadine were undermined by Jeff and Glenne’s chaperoning, Harry’s birthday party went great, they flew over to Australia on the same flight, and now they’ve got rooms booked in the same hotel. It feels phenomenal to be with everyone again, back on stage in front of tens of thousands of fans—and many of those fans have noticed the increased interactions between him and Harry, which means the world to both of them. 

But Louis knows better than anyone that when things are going this great, it doesn’t take long for it to all fall apart. 

He follows Harry into the bathroom, helping him sit up on the counter so his long legs hangs down. Dropping down to his knees, he unzips Harry’s worn brown boots—the gold ones he wore during the show safely back with Caroline and the rest of their performance wardrobe—and slides them off. Then he stands back up and kisses him as his fingers work at the boy’s flies. 

Harry giggles, swaying backward a little and grabbing onto Louis’s arms to stay upright. “Are you trying to take advantage of me?” he asks accusatorily, green eyes sparkling in the bright bathroom lights. 

Louis smiles until the outer corners of his eyes crease, nipping at Harry’s lower lip. “Absolutely,” he replies as he tugs down the zipper on Harry’s jeans. “Lift up.” 

Harry plants his hands on the counter and pushes his hips up so Louis can slide his jeans and briefs down, hissing when his bare backside drops back down on the cold countertop. Louis yanks the impossibly tight fabric off his feet. 

Rubbing his hands up and down the tops of Harry’s thighs, Louis leans in to kiss him again. “Are you even going to be able to stand in the shower?” he teases, digging his fingers into the tense muscles. Harry’s in better shape than the rest of them combined, but bouncing around on stage for two hours still always leaves all five with sore legs. 

Harry leans forward to try and bite him in response, but ends up tipping forward and tumbling right off the counter and into Louis. Louis yelps, struggling to hold the bigger boy up as the momentum backs him right up into the opposite wall with Harry’s full weight in his arms. 

Harry does manage to sink his teeth into Louis’s shoulder once he gets his feet stabilized, pinning Louis up against the wall. Cursing, Louis reaches around and slaps Harry’s bare ass as hard as he can in the awkward position. 

“You drunk idiot, we have another show tomorrow night!” he groans, Harry licking over the bite mark sloppily. Louis’s skin is still stinging when he manages to pry Harry away from him and yank his shirt off over his head. 

Louis turns on the shower and maneuvers Harry into it once it’s warm. Then he strips off all of his own clothes, admiring the sight of Harry’s naked form behind the steamy glass for a few minutes before joining him. 

“Tonight was so good,” Harry mumbles once Louis closes the shower door, tugging him under the hot water. His wraps his arms around Louis’s small waist and kisses his hair. “Love it. Love Australia. Love you.” 

Louis snorts, dropping his head against Harry’s chest. “Love you too.” 

“Wanna fuck you,” Harry whispers, like it’s some huge, exciting secret. 

“Do you?” he asks. Since mid-December and the big turning point in their relationship in New York, Louis had mostly been topping. He doesn’t mind the idea of Harry taking control tonight at all, except for the fact that Harry’s still quite drunk. He drops a hand between Harry’s legs, squeezing him. “Think you can even get hard?” 

Harry takes that as a challenge, just like Louis wanted, and starts grinding against Louis’s hips with limited coordination. “Yes,” he insists, grabbing onto Louis’s shoulder for stability. 

Louis pushes back the wet curls that are plastered down to Harry’s forehead. “Come on, let’s wash up so we can get in the bed,” he says. His legs are aching, and he would much rather fuck lying down on a plush hotel bed than standing up in a shower. Harry’s hips slow to a stop, and he nods his agreement. 

Grabbing one of the tiny bottles of hotel shampoo (which Harry will complain about tomorrow when he realizes—he’s very passionate about the special shampoo Lou buys for him, but Louis can’t be arsed to find it now), Louis pours some into his hands and starts rubbing it into Harry’s hair. Harry hums happily as Louis massages his scalp, the flowery scent filling the shower and suds running down his back. 

Louis takes more time than strictly necessary, enjoying the pleased look on Harry’s face, before guiding him under the water to rinse. He uses conditioner next, and then soaps up Harry’s skin with body wash and scrubs away the sweat and grime from the concert. When he goes to wash his own skin, Harry stops him. 

“Let me,” he demands. Louis sighs but stays still while Harry clumsily works to clean him off. Harry giggles when he washes over the love bite he made on Louis’s shoulder, and before Louis can curse him out for that, Harry slides a soapy hand between Louis’s legs and strokes down over his hole. 

“Oh, you planning on eating me out, love?” he asks, feeling a rush of heat in his groin as Harry starts working his sudsy fingers in and around his entrance. Harry just grunts in concentration, focusing on cleaning Louis thoroughly. 

Louis’s half hard by the time Harry finishes. He grabs the handheld showerhead off the hook and using it to rinse off his body, focusing it between his legs for a few minutes. Then he hastily washes his own hair before shutting off the water, reaching for two towels. 

They dry off and leave the towels on the bathroom floor before tumbling, naked and damp, into bed. Harry’s a tangle of long limbs but manages to climb on top of Louis, pinning his wrists to the bed and kissing his love bite. 

Louis arches his back, trying to rub their hips together. “Babe,” he whines when he feels Harry’s teeth nibbling his skin. “Don’t make it worse!” 

Harry laughs, moving his mouth over to Louis’s and kissing him deeply. Louis can taste the alcohol on Harry’s tongue. He still tries hard not to hold any resentment over Harry when it comes to drinking, and nowadays he feels confident enough to have one or two drinks himself and still stay in control, but it sure does make it a lot more fun to deal with when Harry turns into this pliant, horny drunk. 

Louis manages to wrench his arms out free from Harry’s hold, grabbing onto the boy’s hips and yanking them down so they can grind properly. Harry makes an angry sound low in his throat, suddenly sliding off Louis and getting out of the bed. 

“Hey!” Louis calls out as Harry walks away. He watches as Harry stalks naked around the hotel suite, looking for something. He disappears into the closet for a few seconds before returning to the bed with cherry flavored lube and a pair of padded leather cuffs. 

Louis doesn’t fight him, enjoying this unexpected turn of events as Harry fastens the cuffs onto his wrists and attaches them to a wooden slat in the headboard. Louis pulls on them a little, feeling the soft padding and smooth leather. Satisfied, Harry grabs onto Louis’s ankles, yanking him down the bed until his arms are fully extended and then bending his knees against his chest. 

Harry immediately ducks his head in, licking messily over Louis’s hole. Louis cries out, his muscles tightening, trying to remember the last time Harry did this but giving up as his mind blanks out with pleasure. Harry wastes no time, working his tongue in, spreading Louis open with his hands. 

After a few minutes, Harry straightens up, his mouth shining with spit. Louis watches him, panting, as Harry pours some of the cherry lube on his fingers and quickly jams two of them in Louis’s hole. Louis chokes on a gasp, resisting the urge to kick Harry in the head and clenching hard around his fingers when Harry uses his free hand to stroke his cock a few times. 

Harry smirks at Louis’s reaction before dropping back down. He scissors open his fingers and slides his tongue in between them, licking Louis as deep as he can. Louis whimpers and squirms, his dick hard and curving toward his stomach. 

When Harry needs a break, he pulls his mouth back and just curls his fingers up, rubbing against Louis’s spot.

“Fuck!” Louis hisses, trying to grind down on Harry’s fingers, chasing the pleasure. “Make me come, baby, I’m so close.” 

Even this drunk, Harry knows that’s not the way the game works. He shakes his head and pulls his fingers out, wiping the lube on the sheets. Louis whines loudly at the loss, trying to spread his legs wider and get Harry back inside him. Instead, Harry grabs his thighs and starts licking him out again, even wetter and sloppier than before. 

Louis’s dripping with spit when he finishes, and harder than ever. “Please, Harry,” he says, the words begging but the tone demanding. He thrusts his hips a little, trying to get Harry’s hand where he wants it, his arms pulling at their restraints. 

Harry grins dopily—Louis is overcome with the need to jam a thumb in that damn dimple—and fishes the lube out of the blankets. He slicks his cock with it, stroking himself slowly at first before picking up speed, biting his lip with concentration. Louis watches him with narrowed eyes, realizing Harry’s having a hard time getting hard. 

He prods Harry’s hip with a toe. “If you drank too much to fuck me, so help me god,” he says icily. 

Harry shoots him a look, continuing to jerk himself off feverishly. “Just…give me a minute,” he says through gritted teeth. 

By the time Harry’s managed to get a full erection, his cheeks are red, his arm is sore, and his eyelids are drooping. But before Louis can snap something else at him, Harry seizes him behind the knees and slides into his wet hole. 

Louis’s back arches and he lets out a long noise of pain. Harry had hardly fingered him open enough, and he hasn’t bottomed in a while; it hurts like hell to take Harry’s size so quickly. Realizing his mistake, Harry leans over Louis’s body, balancing on his forearms so he can kiss him apologetically. 

Harry’s hips start moving slowly, only pulling out a few inches before pushing back in. Louis bites down harshly on Harry’s lower lip, but Harry’s too far gone to even feel it. 

“So tight,” Harry mumbles, ducking his head down against Louis’s shoulder and hardly opening his mouth to let the words out. Louis grunts in response. 

Harry starts to thrust harder and faster, causing Louis to grip the headboard to stay in place. The sharp pain has mostly dissipated, but Harry doesn’t seem to be trying at all to make this good for Louis, completely ignoring his cock and his prostate, and not even kissing him anymore. Beyond pissed off, Louis turns his head, struggling to bite Harry’s ear through the mess of wet curls to get his attention, but Harry doesn’t even react. 

After a few minutes, Louis realizes Harry’s hips are slowing, and he’s resting more and more of his weight on top of Louis. “Harry,” he snaps. “Harry!”

Harry buries himself inside Louis and then stops moving completely. Louis thinks he might be coming, but Harry’s breathing has evened out and he’s not even twitching. Hardly daring to believe it, Louis jerks his hips underneath Harry, trying unsuccessfully to rouse him. 

“Harry, you dickhead!” he practically screams, but Harry just sighs happily against his neck. 

Louis wants to be pissed off—his fucking boyfriend just passed out while still inside him—but he can’t find the energy. He tries to shift around to get Harry out of his ass and off of his body, but Harry’s completely dead weight, and Louis’s still cuffed to the headboard. He considers yelling for Alberto (the bodyguard seems to have a sixth sense to be around when Louis is in a predicament), but then what would he do? Ask Alberto to pull Harry off and _out_ of him? The poor man has a hard enough job without that added assignment.

He has no choice but to try and get comfortable and wait for Harry to soften. 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

Louis wakes up the next morning to Harry groaning and rolling over. He glances at the clock on the bedside table which reads 6:52, and realizes he had somehow managed to sleep through the night with Harry passed out on top of him. 

“Harry,” he growls, trying to stretch out his sore muscles. “Uncuff me. Now.” 

Harry sits up and looks around blearily, clearly trying to piece together the situation. Louis watches as the realization dawns on the younger boy, his green eyes widening and his mouth popping open. 

“Oh shit, Lou,” he groans, scrambling to get the key and unlock the cuffs. 

Louis brings his aching arms down, glad Harry had chosen padded cuffs instead of metal ones. At least his wrists aren’t torn up. He rubs his shoulders, but Harry quickly knocks his hands away and starts massaging him himself. 

“I’m _so_ sorry,” Harry whispers. Then, even quieter, “What happened?” 

Louis rolls over on to his front, letting Harry work his long fingers into every muscle of his back. “Well, let’s see. First you cuffed me to the headboard, fucked me without really fingering me first, and then you passed out _still inside me_. I slept all night underneath you!” 

Louis doesn’t have to turn around to know that Harry’s face is bright red. “Did…did you come?” Harry asks meekly. 

“ _No I didn’t come_!” Louis yells into the pillow, making Harry jump. Louis sighs, sitting back up so he can look Harry in the eye. “I’m sorry,” he says, running his fingers back through his messy hair. “It’s not your fault. I knew how drunk you were.” 

Harry shakes his head, reaching out to run his own hand through Louis’s hair. “I’m sorry,” he says again, but it looks like he’s trying hard to fight a smile. It’s contagious, and soon Louis is struggling not to smile too. After a minute of staring at each other, they both burst into laughter. 

“I couldn’t believe it!” Louis exclaims, hitting Harry with a pillow. “One second you were fucking me, and then the next, you were like a dead body on top of me!” 

Harry grabs the pillow from Louis, burying his face in it with a groan and a few more giggles. “I’m _sorry_ ,” he wails, lifting his head to peak at Louis. “Can I at least make it up to you?” 

Louis pretends to take a second to consider it, grinning. “I suppose so,” he finally agrees. “What did you have in mind?” 

Harry puts the pillow aside and takes Louis by the shoulders, tipping him backward against the mattress and kissing his neck. “Are you too sore to finish what we started?” he asks between kisses. “Do you want to fuck me instead?” 

Louis lets out a breathy moan when Harry mouths at the tender love bite on his shoulder from last night. “N-no,” he manages to whisper. He slides a hand between them and feels out his own entrance, jumping a little at the twinge of pain. “Yes. I mean, no.” 

Harry stops kissing him and lifts his head, giving him a blank look. 

Louis shakes his head, grabbing two handfuls of Harry’s hair and pushing him down towards his cock. “Just blow me,” he decides. 

Happy to comply, Harry opens his mouth and sucks Louis’s soft cock in, working quickly to get him hard. It doesn’t take long, since Louis was left unsatisfied last night, and soon Harry’s hollowing his cheeks and bobbing up and down, using a hand to stroke what he can’t fit in his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Louis groans, the memories of last night quickly fading and replaced by a fast-approaching orgasm. 

He puts a firm hand on the back of Harry’s skull and starts jacking his hips off the bed and driving deep into Harry’s throat. Harry’s gagging and drooling but not trying to pull back at all, just letting Louis take his pleasure however he wants. 

Only a few minutes later, Louis grabs onto Harry’s hair again and wrenches his head to the side. Holding him in place, he uses his other hand to quickly jerk himself off, blowing his load all over Harry’s face, striping his cheeks and mouth with come. Letting Harry drop down onto his back, Louis doesn’t even take a second to revel in his own orgasm before grabbing Harry’s erection and jerking him off too. Soon, Harry’s coating his own stomach with his seed. 

Exhausted, Louis lets his head fall on Harry’s thigh, both breathing hard. “I should make you stay like that all day,” Louis muses. “Except you look too good; I don’t want anyone else to see you.” 

Harry smiles, dazedly licking at the come on his lips. Eventually, Louis gets up and wets a cloth in the bathroom, coming back to wipe down Harry’s face and body. Then they both get back under the covers and snuggle up, Louis determined to get a few more hours of sleep before the need to head to the stadium for that night’s concert. 

“Love you,” he murmurs against Harry’s back. 

“Love you more,” Harry responds sleepily, kissing the hand that Louis has wrapped around his chest. 

Louis is just starting to drift off when his phone chimes on the bedside table. Usually he would ignore it, but it’s the morning before their second show, and he wants to make sure nothing’s wrong. Grumbling, he rolls over and grabs it before spooning up to Harry again. 

Frowning against the light of the screen, Louis reads the text message. 

_FYI, we’re flying Eleanor in tonight to be photographed at Sophia’s birthday_


	2. Sensitive in Sydney

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is surprised by how upset photographs of Louis and Eleanor on a yacht make him feel.

****

**Monday, February 9—Sydney, Australia**  
 **_\- Harry -_ ** ****  


Des frowns over at Harry across the backseat of the cab taking them back to the hotel, Harry determinedly staring out the window as the unfamiliar city flies by. 

“Harry,” he tries. 

“Don’t,” Harry immediately interjects. His voice sounds thick with restrained tears. 

“You know he has to do these things,” Des continues gently. “He’s doing it for both of you.” 

“I know,” Harry snaps, but then he slumps down on the seat like a deflated balloon. “I know.” 

Des wants to slide across the seat and put an arm around his son, but they’re already pulling up behind the hotel. “Well, that was a nice dinner, anyway,” he says as a few bodyguards line up by their car and someone opens the door. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbles, still avoiding his father’s gaze. “We should’ve gone on the boat with everyone, I’m sorry.” 

“Harry, it’s fine,” Des says as they both slide out of the cab. Security flanks them as they hurry inside the hotel. “I’m glad we got to spend some time alone together.” 

Harry nods mutely, getting into the elevator. He waves to his father as security leads him to the opposite end of the hotel toward and a different bank of elevators, since they’re not allowed to have rooms near each other for safety purposes. Thinking about that makes Harry’s blood boil again—as much as he loves his life, the protection measures they have to take can be maddening. At least he and Louis can sneakily share suites and alleviate the loneliness. 

He jams the keycard into his door, pauses to thank the security guards, and lets himself inside his suite. Louis is lying on top of the bed with his laptop and a pair of headphones, which he puts aside as soon as he sees Harry. 

“Hi, babe,” Louis calls out cheerfully. Harry forces himself to return a smile. 

“Hi,” he murmurs, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed. Louis’s arms are dark from spending a day on a yacht in the Australian sun, startlingly so against the white duvet, and he’s got little pink patches on the tops of his cheek. Feeling overwhelming shitty, Harry forces himself to lean over and kiss Louis’s warm face. 

“What’s the matter?” Louis asks, immediately picking up on Harry’s mood and frowning. “Everything okay with Des?” 

Harry just nods, crawling in between Louis’s legs and curling up with his head against the boy’s thigh. He doesn’t know how to voice the tangle of emotions he’s feeling—anger, jealousy, self-hatred with a side of self-pity, something bitter—but there are hot tears prickling at the corners of his eyes and an anxious buzz under his skin. 

“Harry,” Louis sighs, stroking his fingers through Harry’s hair. It’s a little greasy and the curls have been tugged straight near the top—a sure sign that Harry’s stressed. “Please talk to me.” 

“ _You_ never want to talk about _your_ feelings,” Harry snaps, the words spewing out before he can stop them. 

Louis sighs again, louder this time. “Don’t,” he says, fingers tightening in Harry’s hair warningly. “Don’t pick a fight with me to avoid what’s bothering you.” 

Harry gasps a little at the pain in his scalp, feeling his heart rate pick up. Everything’s been going so well lately; he feels horrible dredging this old issue up, but bottling his feelings is making him feel physically ill. 

He bites his lip, curling up into a tighter ball between Louis’s outstretched legs. Even though Louis is the person he should talk this all out with, Louis feels the last person he wants to talk this all out with. After everything they’ve been through these past four years in a forced closet, and especially after Louis’s breakdowns and substance dabbling and panic attacks and enormous turn around before Christmas, how can Harry tell him _he’s_ the one having problems with Eleanor now? Louis hardly said one word during December and January when all of Harry’s stunts with Nadine happened. It would be cruel of Harry to do this. He _can’t_ do this. 

Despite the fact that Louis still has a good grip on his hair, Harry shakes his head. He can almost feel the growl rumble through Louis’s chest. 

“Fine,” the older boy snaps. “Get off me then.” 

Harry blinks, surprised. When he doesn’t move, Louis slides out from behind him, retreating to the opposite side of the bed and opening his laptop again. Harry just stares at him, his mouth open a bit. 

“How was the yacht?” he bursts out, tone icy, trying to get Louis’s attention back. 

Louis raises his eyes incredulously. “Seriously Harry, what the fuck,” he demands, dropping the laptop a little roughly onto the bedside table. “Is that what this is about?” 

Harry feels his cheeks burning, so he stares determinedly at a spot on the wall just to the right of Louis’s head. He’s so bad at dealing with these feelings when they’re coming from him; it’s much easier when they’re coming from Louis. For him, at least. 

“I saw the pictures,” he mumbles, dropping his gaze to his knees. “When I was at dinner. Saw them on Twitter.” 

Louis’s frown deepens. “You knew there were going to be pictures,” he says carefully. “There are _always_ pictures.” 

Harry’s lower lip trembles, so he clamps his teeth down on it. 

Louis seems to be getting irritated with Harry’s refusal to talk openly about what’s bothering him, sighing repeatedly and rubbing his temples. “You should’ve just come,” he mumbles finally. 

“The pictures were enough, I didn’t need to see it right in front of me!” Harry hisses. 

“Where is this coming from?!” Louis yells, throwing his hands up. “I don’t understand! We’ve been good! You went on fifty-eight fucking frozen yogurt dates with that model in L.A., and I was fine!” 

“Yeah, but-but _Jeff_ was there, and—” 

“Niall and Liam and Oli and Sophia and Lottie and everybody else were all there today! And you and Des could’ve been too!” 

Harry goes silent again, trying to will the tears building up in his eyes to go away. He knows he should’ve gone on the boat with everyone today. And he really would’ve liked to be there for Sophia’s birthday; he likes her a lot, and it was a good opportunity to bake a cake. But instead he let his stupid feelings get in the way. 

“I was really looking forward to fucking you tonight,” Louis continues, breaking Harry out of his thoughts. Harry glances up at him, surprised. “But you’re acting like a child, and I don’t want anything to do with a child.” 

“No, Louis, please,” Harry quickly begs, seeing Louis’s trap clear as day but still falling right into it. His voice sounds low and thick like it did back in the cab, and he rubs his eyes with the backs of his hands. 

“Are you a grown adult, Harry?” Louis asks very seriously. “Are you going to talk about what’s bothering you? Or do you need to be punished like a child?” 

Harry takes a moment to be amazed at how quickly and easily Louis slips into his dominant role before he’s too distracted by the growing warmth in his groin. He whimpers, not sure how to ask for what he needs, but confident Louis will know anyway. 

“Get up,” Louis orders, his voice taking on an undeniably authoritative tone. “Get undressed. Bring me a hairbrush and a bottle of lube.” 

Harry scrambles to get out of bed and do as Louis asked. There’s no way he’s going to be able to piece together his thoughts and emotions and hold a mature conversation with Louis until his head is a little clearer; they both know that. He finds a flat, square plastic hairbrush in the bathroom and a mostly full bottle of lube in his toiletry bag, all his trust placed unerringly in Louis to help him get through this. Stripping off all his clothes quickly and folding them into a neat pile, he returns to Louis in the bedroom. 

Louis is sitting on the edge of the bed, fully clothed still, his thighs on top of the mattress with the bottom half of his legs over the side. The bed is low enough that Louis can plant his feet on the ground for stability. Harry hands him the brush and lube, but when he goes to drop down to his knees, Louis stops him.

“No. Over my lap,” he says. 

Heart hammering in his chest, Harry carefully stretches out his lanky body over Louis’s thighs on the bed, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets to help stay in place. Louis immediately starts running his hands over Harry’s skin, tracing down his spine and kneading his ass, getting Harry used to the touch.

Harry reflexively grinds down a little against Louis’s leg, earning him his first spank. “Keep still,” Louis orders, rubbing the pink handprint he had made. 

The contact felt so good, the warmth spreading through his body, that Harry can’t help but work for more. He lifts his ass up a little higher, whining high in the back of his throat. 

Louis hits him again, harder this time, making Harry gasp. “I said keep still!” he growls, quickly following that with two more spanks. He hasn’t even picked up the hairbrush yet and already Harry’s fully hard, his brain starting to go fuzzy. 

Harry hears Louis pop open the cap of the lube bottle, and then there are slick fingers prodding at his hole. His grip on the sheets tightens as Louis works one inside him, thrusting in and out a few times before sliding in a second, scissoring them apart. Harry bites back a groan as he’s stretched open, his erection pinned uncomfortably against Louis’s thigh. 

Resting his forearm along Harry’s spine and his wrist against the small of Harry’s back, Louis pushes the two fingers in deep and then hooks them there, effectively holding Harry place. Harry shivers, panting into the bedding when he feels Louis drag the cold plastic of the hairbrush over the swell of his ass. 

“I want you to count them,” Louis instructs, Harry nodding jerkily. “Backwards from twenty-five. Understand?” 

“Yes sir,” Harry whispers, clenching down on Louis’s fingers in anticipation when the hairbrush leaves his skin. 

There’s a pause, and then he gasps when Louis brings the brush down against his ass with stinging force. The sharp noise is more startling than the pain. He almost chokes out, “One,” before he remembers he’s supposed to count backward, realizing Louis chose this method on purpose; it keeps Harry’s mind focused on a specific task and lets everything else fade away.

“Twenty-five,” he says. 

“Good boy,” Louis praises before hitting him again, this time twice in quick succession. 

“Twenty-four, twenty-three,” Harry says, squirming a little. Louis digs his elbow into Harry’s back in response, curling his fingers a little deeper until Harry stops moving. 

“T-twenty-two,” Harry grunts out when Louis hits him particularly hard. 

By the time Harry’s counted backward to fifteen, his eyelashes are matted with tears, his ass is red hot, and his hole is sore from clamping repeatedly down on Louis’s fingers. He digs his toes into the mattress, trying not to move too much but finding it increasingly hard to keep still as the discomfort grows. 

“Harry, no,” Louis warns. “You’re doing so well, love, don’t make me add more.” 

Harry feels himself falling deeper into that fuzzy headspace at Louis’s words, immediately stopping all movement and waiting for the spanks to continue. Louis thrusts his fingers in and out a few times as a reward, pressing his knuckles against Harry’s prostate until he moans before hitting him hard again. 

“Fourteen,” Harry hisses, feeling the wet spot on Louis’s thigh grow as his cock leaks. 

His voice grows rougher as the numbers drop lower, words muffled against the duvet when he can no longer hold his head up. Without Louis’s fingers hooked in his ass, he probably would’ve rolled limply onto the floor by now. 

The hairbrush cracks down against his ass again. “Three,” he mumbles, muscles clenching weakly. 

He hears the sound of the next hit before he feels the pain. “T-two.” 

Louis makes sure to put extra strength into the final hit, practically forcing the last number out of Harry with a rush of air. “One!” 

The hairbrush clatters to the floor, and the room spins as Harry feels himself being pulled up onto the bed. Louis lies back against the pillows and settles Harry completely on top of him, so his bright red ass isn’t making contact with anything, and they’re pressed together front-to-front from top to bottom. 

Harry hadn’t realized he’d been crying until he sees the wet spots on Louis’s shirt where he’s buried his face. His skin is burning, but his mind is comfortingly foggy and slow with no jumble of emotions anymore. Louis strokes his back with his fingertips, kissing his hair and his temples, whispering praise and affections. 

It takes a long time, but eventually Harry finds his way up through the fog and back to the present. He tips his head until he can press his lips against the underside of Louis’s jaw. 

Louis moves so their mouths meet, kissing Harry gently. “You back with me, babe?” he whispers, sliding his hand up to pet Harry’s hair. 

Harry nods, dropping his head back down on Louis’s chest. “Yes,” he says. “Thank you.” 

“You were so good for me, thank _you_ ,” Louis replies. “Do you feel better?” 

Harry nods, sighing. “Yes.” 

“Ready to talk?” 

Harry hesitates, chewing on his bottom lip. 

Louis slips his hand between their bodies, finding Harry’s cock, which Harry realizes is still quite hard. He hums happily when Louis strokes him a few times, feeling his breath start to pick up. 

“Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you,” Louis propositions, “And then I make you come.”

Harry ruts weakly against Louis’s clothed crotch, chasing the pleasure. It feels like it would be a lot easier to talk about what he was feeling today now that his head is clearer, and he would really like that orgasm. 

He turns his face so his forehead is pressed to Louis’s sternum, words muffled against his jumper. “I didn’t want to go on the yacht because Eleanor was there,” he says finally. 

Louis takes a deep breath, rubbing Harry’s scalp. “I figured as much,” he says. “But everyone else was there. They all missed you.” 

“Zayn didn’t go,” Harry points out, even though he knows it’s childish. 

“He’s afraid of boats, babe,” Louis reminds him, and Harry can hear the smile in his voice. “Boy can’t swim, remember?” 

Harry smiles a little too, but it quickly turns into a frown. “I kept picturing…” He trails off, struggling to find the right words. Louis stays quiet, waiting for him to continue. “I kept picturing what our fans would say. Like, if they saw the pictures of you two together. And then… Me. Off to the side.” 

Louis sighs, kissing the top of Harry’s head. “The real fans would’ve known,” he says. 

“But most people would’ve seen it as, like… the famous boy-bander and his hot girlfriend, cruising around on a yacht with his bandmates and _their_ hot girlfriends, while his other bandmate pines over the absence of _his_ hot girlfriend.” 

Harry shifts a little on top of Louis, feeling some of the intense emotions bubbling to the surface again. “The fans that know El’s a beard aren’t the majority,” he adds bitterly. “Not even close.” 

“It’s okay to feel like this, Haz,” Louis says after a lengthy silence. “It honestly makes me feel better to know.” 

Harry lifts his head up to peer at Louis. “To know what?” 

Louis shrugs, avoiding Harry’s eye. “That you, you know, have a hard time with it, too. When all the panic attacks and shit started, I always felt so stupid because the bearding was driving me crazy and you always seemed fine.” 

Harry’s mouth drops open a little, surprised at Louis’s confession. “I was never… I always…” 

Louis cuts him off. “I knew it bothered you, but you always kept it together so much better than me,” he explains. “It… Well, I’m kind of glad you’re finally…”

“Having a meltdown?” Harry finishes for him with a pout. 

Louis laughs, kissing away the pout. “You’re not having a meltdown, love, you’re just upset. And it’s _okay_.” 

Harry hides his face back in Louis’s jumper. “I knew she was fake, and I still got jealous,” Harry mumbles. “I saw some of the pictures at dinner with my dad, and it just felt like… Like I couldn’t even breathe.” 

“I know the feeling,” Louis says, rubbing Harry’s shoulder. 

“You and Eleanor, Liam and Sophia, Niall and Melissa.” Harry sighs. “Looked nice.” 

Louis snorts, pinching the discolored skin on Harry’s ass until he yelps. “It’s. Not. Real,” he says, punctuating each word with light spanks. “ _This_ is real. You and I are real. And someday soon, the rest of the world will know.” 

Harry squirms both in physical and emotional pain. “Can you jerk me off now?” he begs, desperately looking for a distraction. His cock has mostly gone soft from their conversation, but he’s confident he can get it back up quickly. 

Louis bites his lip, stroking the side of Harry’s face. “I just want to tell you…” He pauses, looking uncomfortable. 

Harry frowns, his anxiety immediately tripling. “What?” he asks nervously. 

“Well, they had us take pictures at the beach,” Louis finally confesses. “Me and El. Just the two of us. I’m not sure when they’re planning on using them, maybe for Valentine’s Day, but… I just wanted you to know so they didn’t surprise you.” 

Harry manages to hold in the wounded animal noise he’d like to make. The pictures from the yacht had been from a distance with Louis and Eleanor surrounded by a bunch of people, and _those_ had felt like a shot to the heart to Harry. He can’t imagine what high quality paparazzi pictures of the lovely couple on the beach will make him feel. 

“I love you,” Louis says quietly, sensing Harry’s pain. 

Harry shifts so he can kiss Louis on the mouth. “I love you too,” he whispers. “And I’m sorry about Nadine. I probably haven’t said that enough.” 

Louis shakes his head. “I’m doing okay with it,” he assures him. “It’s not always easy, but… I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, you know?” 

Harry nods, kissing him again. “You’re right. I just… lost focus, I guess.” 

“Always happy to bring you back with a spanking,” Louis teases, nipping at Harry’s lip. “You want to come now?” 

Feeling like a massive weight has been lifted off his shoulders, Harry nods eagerly and rolls off of Louis. The duvet feels like fire against his sore backside, so he quickly plants his feet on the mattress and bends his knees to alleviate some of the pressure. Louis sits up and crawls in between Harry’s legs, ducking his head to kiss his inner thigh. 

“Love you so much,” Louis murmurs, the words tickling Harry’s skin. 

“Love you more,” Harry replies, feeling himself start to harden again just from having Louis so close. 

Louis flashes him a smile before trailing kisses up his thigh, over his hip, across his stomach, and back down the other side. Harry shivers, trying not to thrust up as Louis’s lips deliberately brush over every inch of him except his cock. 

“I won’t tease you,” Louis finally says. “You earned this. I’m proud of you, babe, you were really good.” 

“Thank you,” Harry whispers, gasping when Louis wraps a hand around his semi-hard cock. Louis’s other hand slides lower, sinking two fingers back into Harry’s hole, still slick with lube. 

Harry’s breathing accelerates as Louis’s hands work in tandem, his cock growing to its full size when Louis rubs circles over his prostate. He can’t keep in the little high, happy noises when Louis ducks his head down and kisses over Harry’s taint, sucking gently on his balls. 

The warmth is already spreading over him, building rapidly as Louis seems to hit every one of his spots at once. Harry pants, flushed red from his forehead to his collarbone, forcing himself to keep his eyes open to watch his lover take him over the edge. 

Louis pulls his mouth off only to say, “Come whenever you want, you earned it,” before licking along the ticklish seam of Harry’s thigh and increasing the speed of his strokes. 

Harry groans, arching his back when Louis’s fingers press mercilessly against his sweet spot inside him. “Fuck,” he chokes out. “I-I’m gonna…” 

Louis just smirks and keeps going, making sure to twist his hand at the end of each stroke so his palm rubs over Harry’s slit. Shuddering, thighs clenching around Louis’s shoulders, Harry feels his pleasure peak. He finally lets his eyes close when his orgasm hits him, the image of Louis between his legs, mouthing at his taint while pulling him off fast and hard and thrusting two fingers in and out of his hole, permanently etched into his brain as he shoots ropes of white come across his black butterfly tattoo. 

Louis works him through it, only stopping when Harry starts shivering with sensitivity. “My good boy,” he croons, crawling up to lie next to Harry, tucking his head against his shoulder and kissing his neck. “Look so beautiful when you come.” 

Harry makes a tired but happy noise, snuggling up closer to Louis’s side. “You next?” he asks without opening his eyes. 

Louis chuckles, ripping a pillowcase off a pillow and using it to wipe off Harry’s stomach. Harry’s too spent to reprimand him for it. “I’m alright, love,” Louis says. “That was just for you.” 

The lights are still on, Louis’s still dressed, and neither of them has washed up for bed, but Harry has no plans to move anytime soon. They have another day tomorrow in Sydney, and they’re scheduled to start filming the next music video before they head briefly to Brisbane for one show and then on to Melbourne. Just thinking about it sends another wave of exhaustion washing over him, and he lets out a loud sigh. 

“S’the matter?” Louis asks. Sometimes Harry wishes Louis couldn’t read him quite so well all the time, or that he wasn’t such an open book.

“Just thinking about tomorrow,” he admits. 

Louis rubs his side soothingly. “Can’t you just shut that brain off for five minutes?” he teases sympathetically. “You want some cream for your bum?” 

Harry nods, glad for the distraction, and Louis slides out of bed to go fetch the bottle of special aloe-infused cream they keep for just this purpose. When he returns, Harry’s flipped onto his front. 

It’s cold and it stings when Louis rubs the cream over his backside, but it’s also soothing, and the brief pain helps clear Harry’s head again. Louis puts the cream away and swallows down one of his pills with a bottle of water before stripping down and shutting off all the lights, rejoining Harry in bed. Teeth brushing will have to wait till morning. 

“Love you,” Harry says again. 

“Love you, too,” Louis says, kissing Harry’s neck. “Next time we’re in Sydney, I’ll buy us a yacht, just the two of us, and the paps can take all the pictures they want.” 

Harry laughs, cuddling up closer to Louis, falling asleep to visions of photographs of them kissing on the deck of a yacht printed on the front page of every tabloid.


	3. Misunderstood in Melbourne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis gets drunk, Harry gets bitten, and a Vine goes viral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm already breaking my rule of switching their POVs every chapter. Oh well.

**Saturday, February 14—Melbourne, Australia**  
 **- _Harry_ -**

From inside the bathroom where he’s washing his face, Harry can hear a series of loud crashes and yells coming from the hallway outside. 

He sighs, picking up the high register of Louis’s trademark drunk yells. It’s almost four in the morning; they had spent the better part of the night in the hotel’s club, bar, and casino, but Harry had lost Louis and Liam somewhere near two o’clock. It doesn’t come as a surprise that Louis had managed to get wasted in that timespan, but Harry still feels a little jolt of anxiety, vividly remembering late nights where Louis drank too much and screamed at him until Harry had been blinking away tears. 

Skin damp and hair pulled back in a bun, still dressed in his going out clothes, Harry nervously peeks his head out the bathroom door to listen. The doorknob starts rattling, and then there are thuds as someone seemingly kicks the heavy door to the suite. 

“The hell?” he hears Louis exclaim from the other side of the door, the knob rattling more. 

“Need a key, Tommo,” Liam’s deep voice responds, followed by a round of giggles. 

Taking a deep breath to prepare himself to the scene that awaits him in the hallway, Harry walks over and pulls open the door. Louis, Liam, Oli, Alberto, and two people he doesn’t recognize are standing there, and Louis’s eye light up when he sees him. 

“Harry!” the older boy cries, sloshing the drink in his hand all over the carpet. 

“Come inside, before someone gets pictures,” Harry begs, shooting Alberto a desperate look. When he grabs Louis by the upper arm and tries to tug him inside the suite, Louis digs his heels into the carpet, spilling the rest of his drink when his twists around. 

“Wait! Liam!” Louis pleads. “Come with us!” 

“I’m taking him back to his room,” Alberto patiently assures him, blocking Liam from getting inside Harry and Louis’s suite. Harry can’t help but shoot a glare at Liam that goes completely unobserved. Liam knows Louis shouldn’t be getting this drunk; Harry had trusted him to watch the oldest boy. 

Louis looks crestfallen, but he makes a sloppy hand gesture and yells, “Westside!” as Alberto leads Liam and the rest of their posse away. Harry finally manages to get Louis all the way inside, closing and locking the door behind him. 

The second Harry turns back, Louis presses up against him, mouthing wetly at his neck. His lips and tongue feels cold from his drink, making Harry shiver. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” Louis whispers. 

Harry tries to push him away, but Louis stays attached to him like a tiny, determined kitten, claws sunk into his shirt. “We celebrated Valentine’s Day last night, Lou,” he reminds him exasperatedly. “Remember? The hundred white roses?” The room still smells like a florist exploded; Louis is not so good at moderation when it comes to buying Harry gifts. “Not to mention it’s four in the morning, so technically no longer Valentine’s Day.” 

Louis lets out a soft whine against Harry’s throat. “Do we still have champagne left?” he asks. 

Harry frowns, and he finally succeeds in freeing himself from Louis. “No, we don’t,” he says firmly. “Louis, what happened to only one or two drinks per night? This is _not_ one or two drinks.” 

Louis looks appropriately sheepish, gazing up at Harry through his eyelashes. Harry is well aware of this trick—Louis thinks if he looks cute, Harry won’t be mad at him. It _does_ make it hard. “It was Liam and Oli, you know, we just wanted to have a good time,” Louis explains. “I’m _fine_ , see?” 

When Harry’s disapproving look doesn’t change, Louis seems to get the idea that he can kiss it away, pressing his lips to every inch of Harry’s face until Harry has to grab him by the hair and yank him backward. “Stop!” he pleads, wiping spit off his cheek. 

“ _You_ drank tonight, too,” Louis points out, pouting and trying to fix his messy fringe. “I saw you and Niall doing shots at the bar. I _saw_.” 

“I’m not the one who’s had a problem,” Harry reminds him. He regrets his words when Louis visibly recoils. 

“I’m fine,” the older boy repeats, reaching for Harry’s hands and trying to drag him over to the bed.

Harry doesn’t fight him, letting Louis push him onto the mattress and lying still when the smaller body climbs on top of him. “Can’t we just go to sleep?” he tries. He reaches up to encircle Louis’s waist with his arms invitingly. “We had a show tonight and another one tomorrow. We should sleep.”

“We can sleep,” Louis announces, settling on Harry’s thighs, “ _after_ you fuck me.”

Harry blinks in surprise at that declaration as Louis starts grinding against him. Before he can really wrap his head around what’s happening, Louis is tugging his half-unbuttoned shirt to the side to get his mouth on Harry’s nipple. His breath hitches as Louis’s teeth dig into the sensitive nub, sending little jolts of pleasure straight to Harry’s cock. He’s tired and it’s late and Louis is going to be feeling this hangover hard tomorrow morning; Harry knows fucking isn’t a good idea. But that devilishly determined mouth feels so good, and his hips start rolling of their own accord. And who is he to deny Louis’s unexpected urge to bottom? 

Louis starts trying to take off his jean jacket without detaching his mouth from Harry’s nipple, and the end result is the jacket stuck on his arms behind his back and Louis toppling flat against Harry’s chest. Rolling his eyes, Harry helps free him from the offending jacket, and then strips him fully naked before Louis can hurt himself any further. 

“You too,” Louis points out astutely, his cheeks a little red. Harry bats away his little hands when they go for his shirt, worried that Louis will rip a button off, and he quickly unbuttons it himself. Eventually they’re both naked, but Louis is the only one who’s fully hard. 

Noticing the predicament, Louis gets his mouth back on Harry’s nipple, licking around it before sucking it into his mouth and teething it gently. He grinds their hips together, rubbing his hard cock against Harry’s soft one, and Harry has to give him points for determination, because after a few minute Louis’s got him fully erect.

“M’hard, love, want me to fuck you?” Harry interjects. 

Louis lifts his head and frowns at Harry, his lips wet and pink. “You’re just trying to get it over with,” he says accusingly. He pinches the taut skin over Harry’s hipbone. “That’s not nice.” 

“Ow, you little shit,” Harry hisses, quickly catching Louis’s wrists in his big hands. “ _That’s_ not nice!” 

Louis tries to tug free, and he grins when Harry holds him fast. Harry has to work hard not to roll his eyes again; Louis definitely wants to rile him up and bring his dominant side out, and it’s working. “Fuck me, then,” the older boy demands, bouncing a little on Harry’s thighs so his cock bobs up and down. 

“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” Harry groans, feeling the familiar prickle under his skin he gets when Louis wants to be taken down. Dominating still makes him a little nervous, not to mention he’s exhausted, but Louis looks too good to ignore. 

Louis is still grinning and grinding against him, so Harry grabs him by the hips and shoves him onto the mattress. He goes down easily (he is still drunk after all), and Harry quickly rolls him onto his stomach and pins one arm behind his back, the other palming the back of his skull and pushing his face into a pillow. He can feel Louis shiver beneath him, obviously excited by Harry’s show of power. 

“Here’s how this is going to work,” Harry whispers. Even though he sounds confident, his brain is going into overdrive, trying to think of what to do to Louis to keep this exciting. “You are going to be a good boy and make me come. And you are _not_ going to come. Until tomorrow, at noon. Understand?” 

Louis tries to lift his head up, but Harry keeps it pinned down. “Why?” he whines into the pillow, wriggling under Harry’s weight. 

“You wanted to get fucked, those are the rules,” Harry says simply. 

He finally moves his hand off Louis’s head, and Louis lifts up to peer back at him. “Those aren’t very fun rules,” he mutters, trying to free the arm Harry still has pinned against his back. 

Harry lifts his hand and brings it back down hard on Louis’s ass, the sound of the slap ringing in his ears as Louis twists in his hold. “We can always just go to sleep…” he says, a small part of him wishing Louis would choose that option. 

Louis shakes his head as his ass reddens steadily from the slap. “O- _kay_ ,” he groans. “Okay.”

 

 ** _\- Louis -_**  

Louis feels Harry let go of his arm and then grab him by the hips, yanking them up so Louis is kneeling with his face in the pillow. Spreading Louis’s cheeks open, the younger boy spits heavily on his hole, swirling the spit around with a finger before sinking it in to the second knuckle. 

Louis arches his back with a broken moan as Harry pumps his finger in and out. The alcohol in his system has his muscles loose, but it’s still too dry. Harry shushes him, and then spits again before trying to work in a second finger. 

“Ow,” Louis whimpers, grabbing onto the pillow to force himself to stay still. 

“Just take it, babe,” Harry replies unsympathetically, twisting his two fingers. “You’re a good boy.”

“Lube?” Louis begs, digging his toes into the mattress. He cries out when Harry spanks him again with his free hand. 

“Shh. You wanted this, remember?”

Louis wracks his brain, trying to remember; he’s quite confident this is _not_ what he wanted. This _hurts_ , and if Harry tries to fuck him dry, he’s going to have to color out. Is this punishment for getting so drunk? Maybe he shouldn’t have done that. 

He’s broken out of his thoughts by Harry trying to wedge in a third finger. “Fuck!” he cries out, voice muffled by the pillow. It burns, and he has to really will himself to stay in place, desperately wanting to roll over and get Harry’s fingers _out_. 

Harry can only get the tip of his third finger past Louis’s rim without lube, but he still spreads them all apart until Louis’s howling. Then suddenly, all the fingers are gone and so is Harry, leaving Louis panting on the bed and blinking back tears. 

“Har…Harry?” he calls out weakly. 

Harry returns a few moments later with an old, worn headscarf, a strip of black leather with a button snap on both ends, and—Louis breaths out a massive sigh of relief—a half empty bottle of lube. Harry coaxes Louis into a sitting position and then fastens the leather cock strap around the base of his cock and balls, snapping it closed. 

“Just so there aren’t any accidents,” Harry explains cheerfully, patting Louis’s thigh as Louis lets out a miserable sound. The pressure from the strap is uncomfortable, and now he knows he has no chance of coming before Harry’s chosen time of noon. He doesn’t know why Harry ever doubts his dominating abilities; he can be quite creative. 

“I don’t need it,” Louis insists, even though he knows it’s useless, as the strap is already in place. He whines a little, thumping his hands on the mattress. “I can hold it myself, I _can_ , please!” 

Harry shushes him and picks up the scarf. Louis eyes it warily, and Harry gives him a little smile as he ties a fat double knot in the middle. Already knowing where it’s going, Louis opens his mouth, and sure enough, Harry pushes the knot between his teeth and then ties the ends behind his head.

“Loud, loud, and loud,” Harry murmurs fondly, thumbing over Louis’s cheek above the scarf. Louis sighs audibly through his nose, fidgeting a little, the dry fabric uncomfortable on his tongue. 

Harry takes him by the shoulders and tries to push him flat on his back. Louis’s immediate reaction is to flail, the room spinning as he’s tipped backward, but Harry just forces him down and settles him with a firm hand on his heaving chest. 

Once Louis calms down a little, Harry pours some lube on his fingers and strokes over his hole. Louis moans into the scarf in his mouth—he truly hadn’t been sure Harry was going to prep him properly at all. Two slippery fingers slide in easily, and Louis pushes his hips up to try and give Harry the best angle possible. There’s lingering sensitivity around his rim from Harry’s rough treatment before, but it’s quickly forgotten when Harry crooks his fingers up and rubs over Louis’s prostate. 

Harry has a wicked smirk on his face that makes Louis clench around his thrusting fingers. It feels so good, and Louis looks down at his cock sadly, silently apologizing to it for the predicament. He can’t imagine how he’s going to make it through this fucking with no orgasm, but the strap of leather around his junk gives him no choice. Harry must notice the wistful look in his eyes, because he rubs Louis’s stomach soothingly with a small laugh. 

“You’ll be alright, love,” he says as he slips in a third finger. It goes all the way in this time, aided by the lube. 

Louis holds still while Harry finishes fingering him open, making sure he’s loose and wet and ready. Finally, Harry slicks up his own cock and lines up at Louis’s hole, rubbing the head around teasingly.

Louis lets out a muffled whine, shifting a little to try and get Harry inside him. Harry smirks again before shoving in with one hard thrust, causing Louis to arch obscenely off the bed with a strangled cry. Has Harry gotten bigger since they last did this? When _did_ they last do this? Oh right, when Harry fell asleep still inside him after their first show, Louis thinks bitterly. 

“Like a virgin, Tomlinson,” Harry says through gritted teeth as he pulls back out and slams back in. Louis makes a show of rolling his eyes; he hates when Harry calls him that. 

As Harry continues fucking him, Louis doesn’t realize he’s moving his own hand until his fingers are wrapping around his imprisoned cock. He moans softly into his gag. Oh, the touch feels so good, his erection hypersensitive from the leather strap keeping the blood trapped, and he holds on tighter and quickens his strokes. 

“Louis!” Harry’s snaps, his hips stopping as he reaches between them and grabs Louis’s wrist, wrenching his hand off his dick. “Did I say you could touch?” 

Louis blinks up at him in confusion, trying to free his hand. When that doesn’t work, he simply moves his other hand, sliding it down and grabbing hold of his cock again. Harry’s eyes flash with anger, and he quickly pins both of Louis’s wrists down to the mattress. 

“You’re being a bad boy,” Harry hisses, starting to thrust again. “Do you want to come at all tomorrow?” 

Louis grinds his teeth down on the scarf in his mouth, distracted by the pleasure of Harry’s cock stretching and pounding his hole. This feels really good, why does he not let Harry do this more often? Oh, right, because the fucker falls asleep inside him. But when he’s awake it feels damn good, and why can’t he touch himself? That would make this feel even better. 

He tries to tell Harry he’d very much like to stroke his own cock now, but the words come out muffled and garbled.

“Hold the headboard,” Harry orders, lifting Louis’s wrists and directing them upward until Louis’s fingers tangle in the wooden slats. “Do _not_ let go,” Harry adds, and Louis huffs through his nose. 

With his hands free now, Harry pulls out and grabs Louis by the knees, bending him in half until his hips are completely off the bed and his gaping entrance is pointing due north. Harry stands up on the bed and grabs hold of his cock, pointing it down and sliding easily back inside Louis. He grabs onto the top of the headboard to steady himself, glancing down to make sure Louis is still holding it at the bottom. 

Louis watches from his awkward angle as Harry starts fucking him again, sweat matting his dark curls to his forehead as he works. He looks very nice with his skin shining and his eyes half closed and his teeth sunk into his lower lip, Louis thinks. He’d really like to come all over that pretty face. 

With Harry lost in his pleasure, Louis lets go of the headboard with one hand and snakes it down his body. He’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to be doing this, but it feels really, really good, his fingers running up and down his shaft as Harry thrusts in and out of him. Something that feels so good must be so right, right? 

A sudden loud noise and sharp pain on the back of his thigh has tears springing into Louis’s eyes. He looks up to see Harry staring down at him, livid, his hand raised to strike him again. 

“ _Louis!_ ” Harry all but growls, pulling out again. He knocks Louis’s hips back down onto the bed, fully exposing where he’s jerking himself off. “I told you not to touch!” 

Louis looks determinedly up at the ceiling, avoiding Harry’s furious gaze. Before he knows what’s happening, Harry grabs him and flips him onto his front, pinning him down with a knee on his spine. Louis grunts in pain, feeling Harry’s fingers working at the knot at the back of his head before pulling the headscarf out from between his teeth. 

Harry flips Louis back over then, settling on his hips as he unties the knots he’d made in the center of the scarf to fill Louis’s mouth. He unfurls it and shakes out the damp fabric, and then he grabs Louis’s arms and forces them together in front of him. 

“Lace your fingers together,” Harry instructs. Louis looks up at him in confusion, so Harry presses the boy’s palms together and weaves his fingers until they’re all interlocked. 

It takes some doing, but he manages to cover Louis’s fists with the fabric before tying it around his wrists, so they’re stuck inside a little impromptu mitt. Louis immediately starts fidgeting, trying to unlace his fingers but unable to do so. He whines, still not using his words despite the removal of the gag, thumping his bound hands against his own stomach miserably. 

He can feel Harry’s eyes on him as he moves his bound hands lower, trying to get to his cock. His whines get louder when he realizes he can’t get a hand around himself; he can only rub his knuckles beneath a layer of fabric up and down his shaft, and it doesn’t feel nearly good enough to be worth the discomfort and the effort. 

Harry meets his glare with a smirk, which incenses Louis further. “Fuck you, Styles,” he spits. “You tricked me!” 

Harry snorts, hitching Louis’s knees up over his elbows and bending them so he can thrust back inside him. “You’re drunk, you’re very gullible,” Harry teases him as his hips pick up speed again. Louis’s glare deepens. 

As Harry sets a hard rhythm, Louis’s pleasure heightens, and he starts to lose his patience with this whole orgasm denial scenario. “Harry,” he moans, his voice broken by the younger boy’s thrusts. “I—want—to— _come_.” 

Harry laughs, which makes a deep blush rise in Louis’s cheeks. “What did I say?” he asks, bending over to kiss Louis’s heated face and carefully avoiding the boy’s snapping jaws. “Not until tomorrow at noon.” 

“But I want to come _now_ ,” Louis insists, his hands struggling against their headscarf prison. He is so hard it aches, more so than usual because of the leather strap, and why won’t Harry just give him a little relief? 

Harry shakes his head, quickening his pace as his own orgasm approaches.  Realizing Harry is about to come and he isn’t, Louis starts struggling. He might not be able to use his hands, but he can certainly jerk his hips around and kick his legs and make a general nuisance of himself. He sees the frustration on Harry’s face, and it makes him feel very pleased with himself, evident in his sly grin. 

“You little shit,” Harry says for the second time that night when a particularly hard pitch sideways from Louis causes him to slip out. 

Louis’s grin grows, but suddenly Harry is climbing on top of him, sitting heavily on Louis’s chest and bound hands. His cock, flushed dark at the tip and shining with lube, bobs in front of Louis’s face. Louis shows his teeth, and Harry inches backward cautiously. 

Regaining his confidence, Harry takes hold of his own cock and starts stroking. “Feels so good,” he groans, smirking down at Louis. “Oh fuck, Lou, my hand feels so good. Don’t you wish you could feel it too?” 

Louis shoots him a deadly look, lifting his head off the pillow and straining his neck to try and bite Harry’s erection. Harry scoots back a little further, his hand flying up and down his cock as he bring himself to orgasm. 

Louis slams his eyes shut as Harry starts to shoot, strings of warm come coating his face. When he feels Harry sag on top of him, he cracks open an eye, looking up at the younger boy’s sated and blissful face. Struck with a sudden rage, fueled by the load dripping over his mouth and cheeks and the ache in his own groin, Louis leans forward and turns his head, sinking his teeth into Harry’s inner thigh.

 

 ** _\- Harry -_**  

Harry chokes on a scream as Louis bites him, too shocked in his post-orgasmic haze to properly process what’s happening. He shoots backward in pain, scrambling off of Louis’s body and clapping a hand over the bite mark. 

“Louis!” he gasps, eyes wide. He can’t believe the boy just did that! He lifts his hand gingerly like he’s going to see blood, but instead there are two curved rows of teeth marks, already dotted purple with little bruises. 

Louis lifts his head up to peer innocently at Harry, those long eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he blinks, and ropes of thick, white come clinging to his face. “M’tired,” the older boy announces, much to Harry’s surprise. “Can I come now?” 

Harry’s mouth drops open. “You _bit_ me!” he cries, the wound still stinging. 

“You came on my face,” Louis points out matter-of-factly. 

Harry just shakes his head, too stunned for words. He can see Louis’s eyelids are starting to droop like a toddler’s as it nears five in the morning. The boy’s hands are still bound up in a scarf and his discolored erection is held tight by a cock strap. As much as he would like to pity him and let him come now, he absolutely _can’t_ reward him for _biting_ Harry. Can he? The pain has shocked Harry right out of his dominant role, and his own exhaustion is starting to settle into his bones. 

Harry sighs. “Will you go to sleep right after?” he asks, watching Louis’s face immediately brighten underneath all the come. 

Louis nods, so Harry reaches over and unsnaps the strap. Louis lets out a breathy moan as the blood flows freely through his erection again, trying to get his bound hands on it. Harry rolls his eyes, undoing the knot on the scarf and letting Louis wriggle the rest of the way out. 

He settles down on his side, content to watch the other boy jerk himself off through half-lidded eyes. Louis wastes no time, jamming two fingers of one hand into his well-used hole and wrapping the other around his cock. He moves both hands rhythmically, fucking himself and stroking himself, and Harry would be quite aroused if it wasn’t for the throbbing pain in his thigh. 

Louis comes quickly, spurting over his own heaving chest within minutes. He collapses back onto the mattress, pulling his fingers out of his ass and wiping them on the sheets. When Harry doesn’t immediately move to fetch a towel, Louis glances over at him. 

“Aren’t you going to clean me up so I can go to sleep?” he asks innocently. 

Harry wants to say no, but he knows if he doesn’t then Louis will just go to bed covered in come, and it’ll be disgusting for both of them. He forces himself up with a groan, stumbling into the bathroom to wet a washcloth and bringing it back to Louis. He’s tempted to just throw it at him, but again, if he doesn’t do it then it won’t get done properly. So he carefully wipes off Louis’s face, chest, cock, and ass of all traces of come and lube. 

“Thank you, Hazza,” Louis mumbles sleepily when Harry gets back in bed. 

Harry sighs, wishing Louis didn’t look so god damn cute after an orgasm. It makes staying mad at him really hard. “Goodnight, Lou,” he murmurs. 

He lies back against the headboard and pulls out his phone as Louis cuddles up against him, pillowing his head on Harry’s stomach. He’s too tired to read much, just wants to check to make sure all’s good in the world before going to sleep, but when he opens up the Twitter app he is immediately assaulted by hundreds of tweets of the same Vine. He stiffens, his eyes narrowing as he realizes the Vine is footage of Louis from earlier tonight. 

“Oh, god,” he groans, turning up the volume and trying to prepare himself for what he’s about to watch. “Baby, what did you do?” 

Louis hums sleepily, nuzzling Harry’s stomach. Harry takes a deep breath and plays the Vine, watching over and over as Louis, surrounded by a crowd of people in front of an elevator, seemingly announces, “I’m gay, it’s pretty unfortunate.” Harry can hardly hear it himself, but that’s what all the tweets say he said. It’s also a trending topic, as is #LouisWeLoveYouNoMatterWhat. Harry feels his stomach twist into a knot of anxiety. 

He rubs a hand over his face, sighing deeply. Gazing down at the older boy, he wonders how Louis can manage to look so small and so innocent when the entire world is currently talking about him. It’s hard not to feel fiercely protective of him, even when Louis is two years his senior. And even when he has a bite mark from the boy still burning on his thigh. 

He tosses his phone aside and flips off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. It takes him a long time to fall asleep after that, coming up with all sorts of scenarios and repercussions they’ll have to deal with tomorrow when news of that Vine spreads. Louis sleeps peacefully on top of him.

 

 **_\- Louis -_ ** ****

When Louis wakes up, it takes him a few minutes to remember where he is. Right, they’re on tour, in Australia, and it’s February. Eyes still closed, he reaches blindly around the bed trying to find Harry’s warm body, but all he feels are cold sheets. 

“Harry?” he calls, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes. He’s immediately hit by a crippling headache, dropping back down against the pillows with a defeated moan. 

He hears the rustle of a newspaper and the scrape of a chair being pushed back, and then the mattress dips as Harry sits down on the edge. “Morning,” Harry says softly, like he knows Louis has a headache. 

“How late did I sleep?” Louis mumbles into the pillow, rubbing his temples. 

“It’s about eleven,” Harry informs him, reaching over to coax Louis into a sitting position. “Come on, I’ve got tea.” 

That helps inspire Louis to sit up fully against the headboard, his heartbeat pulsing in his skull. “Paracetamol?” Louis begs, taking the steaming mug from Harry and just holding it in his hands. Harry produces three white pills seemingly out of thin air, placing them on Louis’s tongue so he can swallow them down with a gulp of tea. 

Harry has a funny look on his face, but Louis doesn’t feel well enough to ask about it yet. He drinks down half of the tea before handing it back to Harry and sliding back under the covers. “Never let me drink again,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut. His stomach churns the tea and painkillers, and he swallows down the urge to vomit. 

Harry laughs dryly, putting the mug on the bedside table and slipping under the covers to wrap his body around Louis’s smaller one. His warmth feels good, but his arm is a little too tight around Louis’s middle, and that’s when Louis can’t take the weird tension anymore. 

“Haz, what’s the matter?” he asks, nervous to hear the answer. “We had good sex last night, right?” He’s honestly not sure. He remembers them both coming, but bits and pieces are pretty hazy. There was definitely a scarf involved. 

Harry laughs that same weird laugh, his breath tickling the back of Louis’s neck. “Yeah, it was good,” he says unconvincingly. “You want breakfast? You should eat.” 

Louis forces himself to roll over even though it makes his head feel like it got hit with a baseball bat. He looks Harry in the eye, lifting a hand up to thumb over the boy’s pale cheek. “Love,” he says as firmly as he can manage. “What is wrong?” 

Harry lets out the deepest sigh Louis’s ever heard him make. “It’s… You,” he says. “Someone took a video of you last night.” 

“So?” Louis asks. They had had a concert last night; people take thousands of videos. “I’m in videos all the time, it’s a curse of being so cute.” 

Harry tries to smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace. “No, it’s… A bad video.” 

“A bad video?” 

Harry sits up suddenly, but Louis remains lying down, unwilling to face the headache again. Looking down at him, chewing at his lip, Harry finally blurts out, “It’s a Vine. It went viral last night. You were saying… Things.” 

Louis lifts up a pillow and presses it to his face, letting out a long groan. “Harry,” he says, flinging it aside. “If you do not tell me right now what the problem is—what is that?” He points at a dark purple bruise on Harry’s inner thigh, exposed when Harry’s gym shorts had ridden up. 

“You really were drunk last night, huh?” Harry muses, running his fingers over the bruise. “You bit me when I came on your face.” 

Louis’s eyes, bloodshot and dull, nearly pop out of his face at that information. “I _what_?” he demands, cringing at the volume of his own voice. 

“It’s fine,” Harry says soothingly, reaching over to stroke Louis’s hair. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Louis has a gut feeling Harry is only saying that because he has something much worse to worry about. “Harry, what is this Vine?” he begs, unable to wait any longer. “Please just…spit it out.” 

Harry looks pained, but he finally confesses, “Someone got a video of you, in the hotel lobby with Alberto and Oli and Liam and some people. It’s really hard to hear what you’re saying, but… People are convinced you said you were gay.” 

Whatever color’s left in Louis’s face drains out. “I said…what?” 

Harry reaches over for his phone and unlocks it, pulling up the offending Vine and showing it to Louis. Frowning against the bright screen, Louis watches as the scene Harry described plays out, his own voice coming through the speakers. 

“I-I was talking about someone’s _birthday_!” he cries, remembering the interaction fairly well. “They said they had my same birthday, Christmas Eve, so I said it was pretty unfortunate!” 

Harry has tears sparkling in his eyes as he puts the phone away and lies next to Louis again, holding him close. “It’s okay,” he assures him, kissing his hair. “We’ll figure it out. It’ll all die down soon enough.” 

Louis takes a deep breath, wishing the pain in his head would subside so he could better handle the situation. “It went viral?” he asks weakly. He can feel Harry nod against him. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers, his voice thick. 

“No, babe, please don’t cry,” Louis begs. “It’s just a stupid fucking video. There will be a new one tomorrow for them to spread around. Don’t cry.” 

Harry buries his face in the back of Louis’s neck. “M’not crying,” he mumbles, but Louis can tell.

“Has management or PR called?” he asks, not wanting to hear the answer. 

Harry sniffles a little. “Not me, but I’m not sure where your phone is,” he says. 

With the last of his hungover energy, Louis turns over so he can nuzzle his face in Harry’s chest. The soft t-shirt feels soothing against his skin, and he rubs his fingers down Harry’s thigh. 

“Sorry I bit you,” he says sheepishly, desperate to change the subject. Harry laughs, his chest rumbling under Louis’s cheek. 

“Least of our problems,” Harry replies. Louis can hear the smile in his voice when he adds, “Besides, I never mind wearing your marks.” 

Louis smiles too, trying to push the idea of this viral Vine out of his head. It’s not a novelty, having something they did or say go viral online overnight, and he hadn’t been lying when he said something would replace it tomorrow. These things are always quickly forgotten. He just hopes their team believes him that he never actually said he was gay. He would never let that slip, no matter how drunk he is. 

This must be punishment for drinking so much again, he thinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments and let me know what you liked/disliked. They make writing worthwhile.


	4. Lonesome in Los Angeles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis is in California. Harry is in Japan. But they're always in each other's hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really try to keep this as canon compliant as possible, and what happened during the rest of their time in Australia (Melbourne night two, Adelaide, and Perth) is just too uncertain and confusing with way too many different and untrustworthy accounts of their whereabouts. So I’m skipping ahead to Japan…even though Louis’s trip to LA was scandalous as well. Do they ever just calm down?
> 
> ALSO, the time zone thing happening is just completely baffling. The difference between LA and Osaka makes me question how the world works. I tried really hard to get it right, but I’m not sure if I did. Bear with me.

****

**Saturday, February 21—Los Angeles, California, United States  
** **_\- Louis -_ **

Louis feels lonely. 

It’s almost nine at night in Los Angeles where he’s holed up in his hotel room, fiddling with the world clock app on his phone. The app tells him it’s currently two in the afternoon tomorrow in Osaka, where Harry is. Not only are they in different countries on different continents, but they’re also on different _days_.

This feels like punishment, probably because it is. After the stupid, misinterpreted Vine where he apparently “came out” in a hotel lobby (really, how could people think he’d be that crude about it?), and then with his old “always in my heart” tweet rapidly gaining near a million retweets, management had thought it best to put an ocean between him and Harry. On top of that, they’re requiring him to make a few club appearances and start a few “straight rumors.” The only reason he hadn’t opened the plane door and jumped was because Zayn and Oli had volunteered to come along, too. 

They have a whole VIP charade planned for tonight at Hooray Henry’s, a club in West Hollywood that Louis only tolerates because the décor is London-style and the owner is a friend of Harry’s. Zayn and Oli are both in their own rooms trying to sleep off the jetlag after the flight from Perth, but Louis can’t seem to fall asleep at all. He hates a big, cold hotel bed without a lanky, curly-haired boy in it, too. There’s a reason he wrote “No Control” after all; he _loves_ waking up beside Harry. 

_Are you up ?_  

He sends the text to Harry, not having heard from him since before the unbelievably long flight here. Slipping the phone in his back pocket, he walks around and pulls all the curtains shut and turns off all the lights, plunging the room into darkness. When he goes to get back into bed to try and sleep again, the phone chimes.

_Yes :)x_

Feeling his heart jump a little in his chest, Louis sits up against the headboard and hits the button to FaceTime Harry. It rings for a few minutes before Harry’s pixelated face appears on the screen. 

“Louis?” Harry asks. “Is this working? I can’t see you.” 

Louis curses, scrambling to turn the bedside lamp on. “Shit, sorry, I had just turned off all the lights.” 

“Were you going to sleep?” Harry asks. Louis fights the temptation to close his eyes and listen to Harry’s voice and pretend he’s here with him. 

“I’ve been trying, but I can’t seem to,” he says, trying to sound casual. If Harry realizes he’s feeling lonely, Harry will attempt to defy the laws of time and space and somehow get here regardless of the twelve-hour flight and fourteen-hour time difference. 

“Oh,” Harry says with a sympathetic smile, running his fingers through his hair. “How’s L.A.? Did you get a chance to check on the house?” 

Louis shakes his head. “No, and I don’t think I will. They’re going absolutely mental about me making appearances and getting in the studio and basically having no time to do anything that would connect me to you while I’m here.” 

Harry sighs, the sound crackling in Louis’s phone speakers. “Wanted to make sure they’ve been tending to the pool,” he muses. “But oh well, I’ll just ask Jeff to stop by when he gets a chance. Don’t worry about it.” 

Louis rubs at his chest as his heart seems to swell and then contract painfully. Whenever Harry does this—talks about domestic things, like their home together—it causes Louis a physical pain he can’t describe. He just can’t wait until they don’t need to hide their life together anymore. 

“Miss you here,” Harry says, breaking Louis from his thoughts. “Japan is so cool.” 

“I’ll be there soon,” Louis promises. They have a concert in Osaka in three days…or is it technically two, because Osaka is fourteen hours ahead? Trying to figure it out gives Louis an instant headache. This is why he has people to get him where he needs to be. Or send him where he doesn’t want to be. Like Los Angeles. “I miss you too,” he blurts out. 

Harry shoots him a big smile, his white teeth bright on the phone screen. “Want to have phone sex?” he asks nonchalantly, as if this is something they ask each other all the time. Which they might.

Louis feels an immediate rush of his heat to his groin at Harry’s words, and he palms himself over his grey Adidas joggers. “Yeah? You have time?” 

“Sure, it’s not even dinner time here yet,” Harry replies. “Do _you_ have time?” 

Louis nods. “Don’t have to leave for the club for another two hours,” he says, mirroring Harry’s grin. 

“Let’s use Skype on the laptops,” Harry suggests. “So we don’t have to hold phones. Can use two hands.” 

Louis nods, but then groans. “Oli still has mine from the flight,” he says. “I’m not going to wake him up so I can get it to have Skype sex.” 

“It’s okay,” Harry says, smiling again. “You can just watch me use both hands, then.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, squeezing himself through his clothes. “Fuck, okay.” 

“Okay, I’ll call you on Skype,” Harry says before ending the FaceTime call. 

Louis quickly opens up the Skype app, and he pulls his joggers off while he waits for Harry’s call to come through. Running a dry hand up and down his length, he debates on getting up and finding some lube in his suitcase, but it seems like a lot of effort, and then the phone starts ringing. 

He answers the Skype call, and Harry’s face appears again, but this time it’s farther away from the camera and a lot clearer. “Hi,” Harry chirps as he settles the laptop on the bed and sits cross-legged in front of it. 

Louis holds the phone in his left hand, balanced on his chest, and continues stroking himself to hardness with his right. He’s got a bit of a double chin at this angle, and he’s sure Harry can see right up his nose, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind one bit as he starts pinching his own nipples. 

“Miss you,” Louis says again, cringing at the note of sadness in his own voice. 

Harry’s smile falters a little. “Just a few days, Lou,” he murmurs. “Besides, this is almost like being together.” 

Louis would beg to differ, but he doesn’t want to kill the mood anymore than he already has. “Want me to tell you what to do?” he asks instead. 

Harry nods quickly, dropping his hands from his chest. “Yeah, tell me what to do,” he echoes. 

Louis takes a deep breath, trying to psyche himself up. No, he’s not actually in the same bed as Harry, but the boy is sitting on top of a bed, alone and naked in a Japanese hotel room, completely willing to work to please him. And that’s pretty damn good, too. “Hands and knees,” Louis says. “Let me see you arch your back.” 

Harry immediately scrambles to comply, going perpendicular to the computer on his hands and knees so Louis can see the beautiful dip of his spine. He turns his head with a flip of his long curls, smiling slyly at the camera. “Good?” he asks. 

“Yes,” Louis breathes, picturing running his fingers down the smooth skin of Harry’s back. It would feel so warm, so soft. “Keep turning, love, let me see your ass.” 

Harry rotates, the bedding bunching up under his knees, and Louis has to bite his lip to keep from groaning at the sight of Harry’s backside. His fists clench with the urge to grab two handfuls of it. Harry strains his neck, trying to see the computer screen over his shoulder. 

“Spread yourself open for me,” Louis says, his voice a little tight. “Let me see you.” 

“Yeah,” Harry groans, dropping onto his shoulders so he can reach his hands around and spread his cheeks apart. Louis sucks in a breath when Harry’s hole comes into view on his phone screen, dark pink and small and perfect, and so fucking far away. He just wants to bury his face in it. 

“Fuck, Harry,” he whispers. He has to clear his throat to get his back in the game. “Do you have lube?” 

Harry strokes a finger over his hole, and even on the tiny screen, Louis can see the muscle clench. “No,” Harry admits, smiling sheepishly. 

Louis rolls his eyes, but then again, he doesn’t have any either. “Go get some,” he instructs. They can’t go much farther without it. “And get a toy, too. Whichever you want.” 

Harry flashes him another grin before disappearing from the screen. Louis stares at the image of the boy’s empty bed while he continues to work himself over, tugging his foreskin back gently and thumbing over his slit. It’s only a moment before Harry reappears, a bottle of lube in one hand and a string of four black, multi-sized anal beads in the other. 

Louis has to take a deep breath to stay calm when he sees Harry’s toy of choice, squeezing himself around the base. “Beads,” he says flatly. “You’re going to kill me.” 

Harry laughs, dropping the toy onto the bed and getting back into position with his ass in clear view of the camera. “Can I finger myself please?” he requests politely, causing Louis to experience another rush of warmth to his cock.

“Yeah, babe,” Louis groans. “Lube up your fingers. Just put one in, though.” 

Harry complies, pouring lube onto his fingers and then reaching behind himself. He holds his cheeks apart as best he can with one hand, so Louis can watch as he circles his hole with a slick finger before pushing it inside himself with a soft groan. 

“So fucking hot, Harry,” Louis says as he forces himself to move his own hand very slowly up and down his shaft. If he speeds up, he knows he’ll be coming within seconds. 

“Need another finger,” Harry begs, plunging the single digit in and out of his hole. His voice is somewhat muffled in the duvet, but he’s loud enough for Louis to hear him. “Please, can I use two?”

Louis is not in the mood to wait, so he immediately gives Harry the go-ahead. Harry presses his index and middle finger together and works them both inside himself, moaning brokenly.

“How’s that feel?” Louis asks, forced to play with his balls instead of his dick for fear of coming early.

“Good,” Harry chokes out. “Better when you do it, though.”

Louis feels that uncomfortable tightness in his chest again, and he digs his phone into his sternum a little to distract himself. “You look so hot like that,” he says again. “Can you get a third in there?”

He can see Harry nod his head a little before tucking his ring finger beside the other two and wedging them both past the ring of muscle with a gasp. “S’tight,” Harry mumbles, starting to move them in and out.

“You always feel so tight, babe,” Louis says. “Gotta loosen yourself up so you can take those beads for me, right?” 

“Right,” Harry manages, and then he goes quiet, the only sound Louis hears being the slick noises as the boy continues to finger himself open. Louis stares at the screen, watching Harry’s long digits fuck in and out of his own entrance. 

“Spread them apart,” Louis coaxes, and Harry complies without hesitation, letting out another weak groan. He keeps going for a few minutes, opening and closing his fingers until Louis quietly asks, “You ready to try the beads?” 

Harry nods, panting a little as he pulls his fingers out. “How do you want me?” he asks, blinking over his shoulder at the camera. 

Louis thinks for a second. “On your back,” he decides. “Prop yourself up a bit with a pillow, so I can see your face.” 

Harry turns over, gathering a couple of big hotel pillows behind him and settling down with his legs spread, the laptop between his feet. His hairline is already a little damp with sweat, his cheeks pink, and Louis would do just about anything to be able to kiss his skin. Harry smiles at him, better able to see Louis’s fuzzy, unflattering image on the computer in this position. 

Louis grabs one of his own pillows and sets it on the other side of the bed, using it to prop up his phone so he doesn’t have to hold it and Harry doesn’t have to look up his nose. Harry can see more of him now, as he rolls onto his side, including Louis’s painfully hard cock. He wishes he had a bigger screen so he could see more of Harry, though. 

“Lube them up,” Louis instructs, slowly dragging his hand up his own erection.

Harry picks up the string of beads, holding it by the first and smallest one—about the size of a ping-pong ball. He uncaps the bottle of lube and drizzles a healthy amount over the toy, smearing it around the four balls with his fingers. Louis can feel his own breathing picking up with anticipation, and he imagines Harry’s is doing the same. 

“All set, babe?” he asks, getting a good grip around the base of his cock, fearful of coming the second he sees that first ball disappear inside Harry’s body. 

Harry nods, bending his knees up and digging his heels into the mattress to give himself the best access and Louis the best view. Louis sees the boy’s green eyes glance up at the screen, and he nods encouragingly. 

“Put the first one in,” he says, inching closer to his phone to better see. He watches the tiny image of Harry take a firm hold of the first bead and place it against his hole. “Gotta press hard, love, or it won’t go in,” he adds. 

Harry nods again, chewing his bottom lip as he increases the pressure against his entrance. Louis hears Harry’s choked gasp as his hole finally gives way, stretching around the bead and swallowing it up, the dark sphere vanishing inside his body. Harry lets out a shaky groan, shifting a bit on the sheets, only the black string peeking out of his now-clenched ass. 

“How’s it feel?” Louis asks, trying to sound gentle but knowing it’s coming out demanding. 

“Good,” Harry murmurs, wiping some of the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “Really good.”

Louis knows he’s not giving Harry much time to adjust, but he really doesn’t have the patience for it. There are still three beads waiting to go. “Ready for the next one?”

Harry huffs out his nose, but he picks up the second ball. This one is slightly bigger than the first, and Louis knows it’s going to take a bit of work to get in. His just wants to be between Harry’s thighs, helping him with this. 

“Take your time,” he says, still holding his own junk in a tight grip. “Make sure there’s enough lube.” 

Harry takes a deep breath to steady himself, then places the ball at his hole. His long, low whine ripples through Louis’s phone speakers, sending a jolt straight to Louis’s cock. Harry pushes against the ball hard, his knuckles turning white, and then suddenly it slips inside him. 

“Fuck, fuck!” Harry pants, grabbing onto the sheets with his free hand to steady himself. 

“You’re okay, Haz, you’re okay,” Louis soothes. “Touch yourself a little.”

Harry lets go of the sheets and wraps his shaking fingers around his cock, giving it a few rough tugs. Louis watches carefully, heart hammering away in his chest, hating that he’s not there next to Harry to keep him calm. Maybe this wasn't the best idea. 

“Tell me what it feels like,” Louis says, hoping to ground Harry a bit by getting him talking. 

“Um,” Harry breathes out. “Big. F-full.”

“Reach down,” Louis coaxes, trying to think of all the things he’d be doing to Harry if he were with him. “Pull the bead out a little. Touch your rim. Tell me how it feels.”

Harry lets out a weak noise, but he does what Louis says and grabs the string with one hand and strokes over his hole with the other. “Shit,” Harry curses again. “I-I can feel it stretching.” 

Louis can’t help but smile, watching as Harry tugs on the string and he black ball peeks out as his hole opens around it. “Looks so fucking hot,” he groans, allowing his own cock a couple of good strokes. A pleasant shiver rolls down his body. 

“Next one?” Harry asks quietly, still circling his slick rim with a finger, watching Louis’s image on his laptop screen. 

Louis nods, and Harry picks up the third biggest ball. “Take your time,” Louis orders. “Put some more lube on it.” 

Harry finds the bottle of lube and drizzles more over the final two beads. Louis can’t stop staring at them, following the black string from ball to ball to where it disappears into Harry’s body. There are already two balls in there, he thinks, nestled against each other and filling Harry up. The thought gives him a head rush. 

Once he’s lubricated them sufficiently, Harry gets a good grip on the third ball and starts trying to push it in. Louis listens as the boy gasps and curses, curling his toes and shifting his hips as he struggles to get it inside him.

“It won’t go in!” he cries, his face shining with the sweat of his effort.

“Relax,” Louis says, firmly but soothingly. “Take a deep breath, then another one, and keep pushing it.”

Harry obeys, visibly forcing his body to unclench and taking steady breaths. Louis doesn’t speak as the other boy tries again, pressing hard against the ball until it breaches his hole, disappearing alongside the other two.

“Good boy,” he praises quietly as Harry lets out a few relieved sobs. “You did so well, love, so good for me.” 

Harry sags against the pillows, letting his eyes fall closed, his hard cock lying heavily against his hip. “So much,” he says a little dazedly, rubbing a hand over his lower stomach like he can feel the beads inside him. 

Louis feels bad making him take the fourth and largest bead without being there with him to comfort him through it. “You can stop, babe,” he says. “That’s plenty, you did great.” 

Harry opens his eyes just a sliver, trying to see Louis’s face on the computer screen. “Wh-what?” he whispers. 

“Three is enough,” Louis says firmly. “Don’t you want to come?” 

Harry seems torn, glancing down at the last bead still on the outside of his body and then back to Louis’s image. 

“It’s enough,” Louis repeats, changing tactics. “We’ll do all four when I’m there with you, okay? I don’t want you to do it without me.”

“Okay,” Harry says finally. 

“Now,” Louis says, propping himself up a little better and wrapping a hand back around his own cock. “I want you to work that third ball in and out, can you do that for me?” 

“Yes,” Harry answers breathily.

“I want to see your hole stretch around it, babe, want to watch that while I come,” he continues, starting to stroke himself again but with fervor this time. “Alright?”

“Alright,” Harry echoes, taking hold of the string.

He tugs on it, sucking in a breath when the bead starts to reappear. Louis’s nose is only inches from his phone screen as he stares, mesmerized as Harry’s rim stretches so, so wide around the black ball as it comes back out, slowly, slowly, and then drops down onto the bed, leaving Harry gaping.

“Oh, fuck, Harry,” Louis chokes out.

Harry doesn’t forget Louis’s instructions, though, picking the ball back up and pushing it against his hole again. This time it goes in much easier, breaching Harry’s loosened muscle and slipping inside. Harry groans weakly, shuddering in the sheets.

“Good boy,” Louis moans, his hand moving quickly up and down his shaft. He can feel the orgasm he’d been fighting off quickly arriving to its peak. “One more time for me, babe.”

Harry nods determinedly, picking the string back up and very slowly pulling the ball out again. Louis hums appreciatively, watching Harry push the ball right back in.

“Okay,” Louis gasps, his voice rough with his building pleasure. “Pull them all out, slowly, one by one. Then come for me.”

For the final time, Harry grabs hold of the string and pulls. He goes slow, as Louis instructed, but the balls are slick and his hole is loose, so they pop out pretty quickly. The third and largest comes first, then the second reappears through Harry’s gaping entrance, the first and smallest following right behind it. 

Louis is so close now, desperately working to keep watching Harry’s image on his phone screen as his eyes try to close. He finally lets them as he tips over the edge, crying out with no care to the neighboring rooms. His back arches off the bed when he shoots, covering his hand and stomach with come.

He doesn’t revel in his orgasm long, forcing himself to open his eyes and roll over to watch Harry come, too. Harry’s hand is moving so fast that it’s a blur on the phone screen, and Louis can only just make out the jets of white as Harry comes all over himself with a hoarse shout. 

They both come down from their highs slowly, sprawled out messily in different beds in different parts of the world. Eventually Louis reaches out to grab his phone with his clean hand, balancing it back on his chest to watch Harry.

“Haz?” he calls out after a few minutes when Harry still hasn't moved. “You alright?”

Harry manages a small nod, peeling his eyes open a few moments later. “Just a little fuzzy,” he admits. 

Louis fights the immediate urge to open the balcony door and jump off. “That’s okay,” he says softly instead, knowing he needs to comfort and praise Harry just like he would do if he were with him, and not let the boy know he’s feeling panicked and useless. “Just take your time. You did so, so good for me, love, I’m so proud of you.” 

Why couldn’t Harry have just chosen a normal dildo instead of a giant set of anal beads? Louis sits up in bed, scratching his nails up and down his thigh to try and keep calm. Harry doesn’t say anything for a long time, just lying in the same position he fell into post-orgasm.

“M’okay,” the boy finally says, reaching up to push his sweaty curls out of his eyes. He lets out a quiet giggle. “I’m okay, Louis, I’m okay.”

“Jesus, you scared me there,” Louis sighs, collapsing against the pillows. 

“Sorry,” Harry says. “Not used to feeling like that without you here. Just…needed a few minutes.”

“I love you,” Louis blurts out, suddenly overwhelmingly tired. He throws an arm over his face. “You’re the best, you know that?”

Harry giggles again, the best sound in the world. “Yes. I love you, too.”

The Skype timer tells him that they’ve been on their call together for over fifty minutes. He still has to go make the stupid club appearance with Zayn and Oli, but now he feels like he could sleep for a year.

“Take a quick nap before you go out,” Harry suggests, reading him like a book even through a video chat. “And drink some water. You’ll feel better.” 

Louis smiles, dropping his arm from his face. “I can’t wait to see you,” he says.

“Just a few days,” Harry replies, smiling into the camera as he pulls his computer off of the bed and onto his lap.

Confident that Harry is okay now, they say their goodbyes, and Louis closes out of the Skype app. There are no texts or calls on his phone, so he sets an alarm for half an hour and rolls over to try and catch a quick, much-needed nap.

The bed feels even emptier somehow now, without Harry or Harry’s image on his phone. He clutches an overstuffed pillow and attempts to spoon it; his last thought before he falls asleep is that he needs to remember to clean off the dried come on his skin before going out. 

 

**Sunday, February 22—Los Angeles, California, United States  
** **_\- Louis -_ **

Louis is fussing with his hair in the bathroom, getting ready to go out to clubs _again_ even though they have to be on a plane to Japan first thing in the morning, when the shrill sound of the hotel room telephone ringing nearly makes him jump out of his skin. 

He can’t help but answer it a little sharply, heart still pounding from the loud noise. “What?”

“Louis Tomlinson?” a polite but timid female voice with an American accent answers him.

“Yes,” Louis says a little exasperatedly.

“You have a delivery at the front desk.” 

Louis frowns. “Is it from a fan? I’m sorry, you can just throw it out. Or keep it if you want, whatever.”

“Oh, sorry sir,” she says, clearly getting more and more flustered. “Um, I’m not sure if it’s from a fan, it’s signed from a Herschel Azoff?”

Louis’s heart skips a beat. “Fuck,” he blurts out. “Ah, sorry, I mean… Yeah, can you send that up to my room please?”

Alberto is going to kill him when he finds out Louis had a hotel employee come to his room without telling him first, but right now Louis doesn’t care. He hangs up the phone and tries to go back to sorting out his fringe in the mirror, but it’s useless. He ends up waiting by the door until a soft knock comes.

“Delivery!” a muffled voice says.

Louis immediately throws open the door, finding a young guy in a smart uniform standing there with a brown cardboard box in his hands. He takes it from him, handing him a fifty-pound note.

“Thanks, sorry, this is all I have,” he says distractedly, letting the door close on the delivery boy’s stunned face.

He brings the box over to the bed, thumbing over the delivery label. It’s from Etsy.com, a website Louis has seen Harry look over more than a few times but has never gone on himself, and it was shipped overnight for a ridiculous amount of money. Herschel Azoff is written in the top left corner, but the post office stamp is from Los Angeles. He hopes to god this isn’t a trick from a fan with some sort of explosive device inside.

Louis rips open the box, his hands trembling slightly. Safely inside of a nest of white tissue paper is a ceramic mug, and when he pulls it out, he sees a screenshot of his tweet to Harry from over three years ago printed on the side.

_Always in my heart @Harry_Styles . Yours_  
 _sincerely, Louis  
_ _2 October 2011_

His vision goes blurry as his eyes fill with hot tears. Tucked inside the mug is a piece of paper, with a note typed on it. He has to blink a few times to read it properly.

_Thank you for the best years of my life._  
 _Even when we’re apart, the world knows we’re together._  
 _To one million more._  
 _Always in my heart Louis Tomlinson._  
 _Yours sincerely,  
_ _Harry x_

Louis closes his eyes and a couple of tears tumble down his cheeks. How had Harry managed to pull this off? He must have paid this Etsy person a fortune to specially ship the mug and include a personalized note. Had he planned this before or after they Skyped last night? He briefly wonders if Harry had him or her sign an NDA. 

Louis loves to buy Harry cars and watches and entire florist’s shops to commemorate special occasions, but Harry always manages to make something so small feel so special. Lost in his thoughts, he wraps his fingers around the mug and smiles a little at the old picture of him from 2011 that’s next to his tweet. He knew when he met Harry at the _X Factor_ that the boy from Cheshire was destined for big things. He never could’ve guessed, though, that Harry would choose Louis to spend the best years of his life with. Louis knows he got incredibly lucky with his career and his fame, but if anyone were to ask, meeting Harry was the luckiest thing to ever happen to him.

Hands still shaking, Louis fumbles to pull up Harry’s number on his phone. It’s past ten in Los Angeles, and he estimates it must be the middle of the afternoon the next day in Osaka, so he’s not surprised when he gets Harry’s voicemail.

It takes him a second to speak after the beep.

“Love you Harry. To a million more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOW DID THAT GET SO FLUFFY?


	5. Trapped in Tokyo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's overwhelmed by loneliness, and Louis leaves him alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took longer than usual! It's super angsty and was hard to write.

** **

**Sunday, March 1, 2015—Tokyo, Japan  
** **- _Harry_ -**

On the ride back to the hotel from the stadium, Harry realizes it’s already March. They’ve been on tour for a month now; one more show tomorrow and then both the Australian and Japanese legs of the tour will be done. 

Their time on tour always seems to have this weird way of going by both slowly and quickly. The shows blur together a bit, and the days are long, but the months seem to fly by. If he’s honest, the past four _years_ have flown by. He’s looking forward to their upcoming nine-day break, though, which he and Louis plan to spend back home with their families. 

The car pulls up behind the hotel, and Harry waits for a bodyguard to open his door and accompany him inside. His body aches from bouncing around on stage for two hours, but his blood is still pulsing with adrenaline. He’d really like to find Louis and expend some of the extra energy, he thinks as he pulls out his phone, but he doesn’t manage to finish his text to the other boy before he’s being escorted out of the car and up to his room. 

Louis isn’t in the kitchen or the living room of their suite. Harry peeks into the bedroom, trying to be quiet in case he’s already sleeping, but the bed is still perfectly made and empty. He checks the bathroom too, but the light is off. There’s no sign that Louis has been in the suite at all; no discarded clothes, no empty food containers, none of the usual evidence Louis leaves behind. 

He sends Louis a quick text asking where he is, pacing around the little kitchen table while waiting for a response. It’s so hard to come down after a show sometimes, especially alone. That physical and mental buzzing is what had prompted their kink exploration in the first place; nothing quiets it all down quite like subspace. So where the hell is his boyfriend? 

When Louis doesn’t answer after five minutes of dizzying pacing, Harry changes tactics and texts Liam. True to form, Liam responds almost immediately. 

 _Everyone in Nialls room, come over_

Harry frowns. How nice of them to invite him. He pulls on a clean hoodie and tugs his hair up into a bun before leaving his suite and heading down one floor to Niall’s. He can hear raucous laughter coming from inside as he lifts a hand to knock on the door, the sad feeling of being left out deepening. 

The door flies open, and Louis is standing on the other side, positively beaming at him with a beer in one hand. “Harry!” he exclaims, grabbing him in a one-armed hug and pulling him inside. “So good of you to finally join us mate!” 

Harry can’t help but smile back, trying to push back his emotions as everyone says their hellos. Liam, Niall, and Zayn are all there, as well as Louis’s best friend Oli and Liam’s best friend Andy. He’s sure they didn’t forget to invite him on purpose, and it’s not worth staying upset over. 

Louis leads him over to a little chair in the living room where everyone’s gathered, pushing Harry down and settling into his lap. It always gives Harry a little thrill when they do things like this—act like a couple in front of their friends and band mates. It’s as close to a public display of affection as they can get. He wraps his hands around Louis’s hips, giving him a little squeeze. 

\- - - - - - - - - -  

A few hours and a few beers later, Harry and Louis return to their own suite upstairs. Louis had spent most of the time with everyone subtly grinding down on Harry’s lap while simultaneously managing to be the life of the party, and Harry is now equal parts impressed and turned on. 

“Louis,” he whines, tugging at the other boy’s shirt the second the door closes behind them, his hard cock suffocating in his jeans. 

“Yes?” Louis teases, grinning, dancing just out of Harry’s reach. 

“No, no, no,” Harry says, darting forward to grab Louis by the shirt again. “First you forget to invite me to Niall’s room, and then you get me hard and don’t do anything about—” 

Louis cuts him off with a kiss, reaching up to pull Harry's hair free from the elastic band. “I didn’t forget to invite you!” he insists, nipping at his lower lip. “I told Zayn to text you!” 

“Well. He didn’t,” Harry says petulantly as his curls fall around his face, dropping his gaze. “If I hadn’t texted Liam, I would’ve just been here, in the room…all alone…” 

Louis bites a little harder at Harry’s pouting lip. “You’re not alone now,” he points out with a devilish grin, palming Harry’s erection over his jeans. 

Harry lets out a breathy groan. “Are you still going to the club with Zayn?” he asks, fearful that Louis will start something without time to finish it. 

Louis squeezes him through the fabric less than gently. “I think so.” 

Inwardly, Harry panics a little. He doesn’t want Louis to go out tonight, even though he knows it’s selfish. It’s already late, and now they’re finally together and alone. “Babe,” he whimpers, cupping his hand over Louis’s where it’s still grabbing at his crotch. “You can’t leave me like this.” 

Louis smirks. “It’s just a club, Haz, I’m not going off to war,” he says, grinding the heel of his hand down until Harry groans again. 

“Stay in with me tonight,” Harry begs, cringing as the pathetic words just slip out of his mouth. 

Concern flickers over Louis’s features, and Harry feels heat rising in his face. “Come on,” Louis says, taking both of Harry’s hands and tugging him over to the bed. “I told Zayn I would meet him in half an hour. That’s plenty of time for us.” 

“Okay,” Harry relents, forcing himself to smile. He doesn’t know how to describe his feelings to Louis—he’s not even sure how to describe it to himself—but for some reason the idea of his boyfriend going out tonight while Harry stays in just feels like a knife in his chest.

“You know you can come with us,” Louis interjects, like he had read Harry’s mind. 

“You know I can’t,” Harry says as he sits on the edge of the bed. “People thought you and I went out together _last_ night. We’d be in so much trouble if we started rumors again tonight.” 

Louis doesn’t argue, sitting down on the bed as well. “I won’t stay out too late,” he promises, leaning over and kissing Harry’s ear.

Harry nods even though it makes no difference to him what time Louis comes back. He shivers as Louis’s lips run over the shell of his ear but pulls away completely when Louis darts his wet tongue inside. “Stop,” he snaps, shielding his ear with a hand.

He’s surprised when Louis suddenly knocks him backward on the bed and climbs on top of him, straddling Harry’s thighs and pinning his wrists to the bed. “Trying to be naughty to get my attention?” Louis asks, grinding his hips down. 

Harry hadn’t been doing that at all, but he’ll take the attention now that he's got it. He pushes up against Louis’s hands like he wants to break free, wriggling underneath him, his cock throbbing in his jeans. “Let me go,” he demands playfully.

Louis bends down to kiss and bite at his throat, and Harry feels a rush of satisfaction. Maybe all he needs to do is rile Louis up, turn him on enough that he won’t want to go clubbing anymore. He’ll just want to spend the rest of the night in bed with Harry. 

Louis lets go of one of Harry’s wrists to reach between their bodies and undo his own flies. He shoves his tights jeans down to his ankles (no easy feat), kicks them off the side of the bed, and then shimmies up Harry’s torso to sit on his chest. His legs keep Harry’s upper arms pinned to his ribs, and Harry has to bite his lip to keep a huge smile from splitting his face. 

“Is this what you want?” Louis teases, leaning forward until his erection is an inch from Harry’s mouth, still hidden behind his black boxer briefs. 

Harry immediately strains for it, sticking his tongue out and licking along the hard line of Louis’s cock over the fabric. Just as he expected, Louis doesn’t approve, and the older boy pushes Harry back with a hand on his forehead.

“Please,” Harry gasps, turning his head from side to side to try and dislodge Louis’s hand. 

One side of Louis’s mouth tips up in a smile, and he rolls his eyes. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” 

He lets go of Harry’s forehead, and Harry leans forward again. He presses his lips to the dark briefs, mouthing up and down Louis’s shaft, rubbing his length with the tip of his tongue until it’s damp with his spit. He’s determined to make this as good as possible for Louis to convince him to stay in tonight.

“Take them off,” Harry begs without removing his mouth, his words vibrating against Louis’s cock. 

When Louis doesn’t respond, Harry looks up, only to see those blue eyes glancing over at the clock on the bedside table. A wave of panicked nausea rolls over him, and in a desperate attempt to get Louis’s attention back, he digs his teeth into the boy’s shaft through his underwear. 

Louis chokes on a gasp of pain, jerking back and sitting heavily on Harry’s chest. Before he can say anything, Harry blurts out, “Sorry! I didn’t mean it!” 

There’s an uncomfortable pause as Harry stares up at him, wide-eyed and breathing hard underneath Louis’s weight. Why did he _do_ that? He can feel his heart beating wildly at all his pulse points, and he tries unsuccessfully to wriggle his arms free from Louis’s legs. 

Louis reaches a surprisingly tender hand down and cups Harry’s cheek, stroking his thumb over the hot skin. “You all right?” he asks with genuine concern. “You’re acting a little…off.” 

Harry sighs, nuzzling his face against Louis’s palm. “M’fine,” he murmurs. “Please, just… Let me blow you?”

Louis frowns down at him, looking over every inch of his face like he might be able to find some sort of explanation hidden there for Harry’s odd behavior. Harry’s cheeks flush a deeper red, and he squirms a little. “Please,” he repeats. 

“Let’s get you set up first,” Louis decides, and Harry looks at him in confusion. “Don’t move,” he adds before sliding off of Harry’s body and out of the bed. 

Harry rolls over and buries his face in a pillow, letting out a frustrated little scream as Louis pulls up his jeans and goes off to undoubtedly find their bag of tricks. What the hell is _wrong_ with him? Biting, really? That’s much more Louis’s M.O. He pounds his fist into the pillow before flipping back over, desperately trying to regulate his breathing and _act normal._  

Louis comes back, dumping a variety of items on the bedside table. Before Harry can get a good look at anything, Louis’s back on the bed, helping to get Harry stripped. 

“You too,” Harry says once he’s completely naked, reaching for Louis’s flies, but Louis bats his hands away. 

“Come on, babe, spread your legs,” Louis says, tapping Harry’s inner thigh. Harry eagerly complies. 

Louis lubes up his fingers and pushes one of them inside Harry, moving it in and out of him quickly before adding a second. Harry bites his lip against the twinge of pain, wondering why Louis is fingering him so fast when they have all night—but that’s when he remembers they really don’t. He lets out a little squeak when two fingers becomes three, but Louis just keeps moving them around, loosening up his hole.

Much too soon if you ask Harry, Louis withdraws his fingers and wipes them off on the bedding. He grabs a set of padded leather cuffs and affixes them to Harry’s ankles, Harry watching intently as Louis’s dainty hands work over the straps and buckles. Louis then grabs two lengths of rope, attaching each one to the ankle cuffs and tying the other end to either foot of the bed. They always have to get creative when they’re in hotel beds with no footboards, Harry muses as his legs are spread and bound down. 

Louis rubs Harry’s stomach soothingly as he uses a pair of metal handcuffs with an extra long chain to attach Harry’s wrists to the horizontal wooden slatted headboard. Like always, Harry puts on a show of testing his bonds, tugging against the cuffs and writhing in the sheets, and Louis smirks when he sees that the boy is successfully immobilized.

Harry checks the clock and realizes that it’s been just about a half hour, the time Louis promised to meet Zayn. “Gonna fuck me like this?” he asks, an undeniable pleading note to his voice. 

Louis smiles but doesn’t answer, wrapping his fingers around Harry’s cock and lazily stroking it. It begins to fill out fully, curving up against his stomach, and Louis bends down to give the head a teasing lick. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks, squeezing Harry from base to tip. 

“Good,” Harry chokes out. “D-don’t stop.” 

Louis keeps working him over with his hand, his movements slow and careful, never bringing Harry close to the edge. Harry’s a total wreck—not because of the lack of orgasm, but because he can’t stop trying to think of ways to get Louis to stay. 

Louis reaches to grab something from the bedside table, and Harry’s heart leaps, convinced Louis has decided to blow off Zayn and is reaching for lube to fuck him with. Harry feels his stomach tumble, though, when instead Louis picks up their black vibrating plug.

Louis slicks it up and holds it between Harry’s legs. “Relax,” he orders, probably aware that he didn’t finger Harry open enough, before pressing it against him. 

Harry sucks in a breath when the cold plastic touches his entrance, but he wills his muscles to stop clenching as Louis forces the toy in. The widest part hurts, and he digs his heels into the mattress a little against the pain, but soon it’s in him all the way. His hole closes around the bottom with just the flared end staying out.

Louis looks him over to make sure he’s all right before hitting the button on the toy that turns on the vibrations on. Harry immediately groans, the plug buzzing inside him, against his spot. 

“Fuck, Lou,” he pants, shuddering in the sheets. “Gonna make me co—”

He’s interrupted by Louis’s phone ringing loudly from inside his jeans pocket. The older boy fishes it out, checking the name on the screen before glancing up at Harry. He pauses but then ignores the call, shoving the phone back in his pocket. Harry practically explodes with happiness. 

Louis takes hold of Harry’s cock again, and then very carefully spits down on it. He catches the wad of saliva with his hand and spreads it along Harry’s shaft, making Harry shiver with pleasure. Louis shoots him a little smile, and Harry beams back at him.

For a final time, Louis reaches over to the bedside table for something.

All the air freezes inside Harry’s lungs as he realizes the object in Louis’s hand is a cock ring, and he watches through sudden tears as Louis works it down over Harry’s spit-slick shaft and tugs his balls through. 

“N-no,” he whispers, jerking his hips a little, the silver ring glinting in the light of the bedside lamp. “Please!” 

Louis pats Harry’s hip, obviously quite pleased with the setup he’s created and unaware of Harry’s crushing disappointment. “I’ll be back in a few hours, love,” he says cheerfully. He picks up Harry’s phone and carefully tucks into one of Harry’s cuffed hands. His tone becomes very serious when he adds, “If you need to color out, you call me.”

Harry nods tearfully, too shocked to say anything as he watches Louis pull on a jacket and check his fringe in the mirror. Louis looks him over one last time—Harry’s legs spread and bound with long ropes to either foot of the bed, his arms cuffed to the headboard clutching his phone, a cock ring at the base of his erection, and a vibrating plug buzzing away in his hole—before giving him a reassuring smile and disappearing out the door.

Harry tries to breathe, but the devastation feels like a punch to the stomach. More tears burn in his eyes, and when he squeezes them shut, they start falling down his cheeks. He can feel the plug inside him, but the vibrations are more like a distant nuisance than any source of pleasure. Without the cock ring, he knows he would’ve gone soft. 

 _Why_ is he so upset? They’ve done scenes like this before, where Louis ties him up and leaves him alone. He’s never particularly loved the time by himself, but that sort of deprivation always makes the pleasure in the end so, so good. Tonight, though, if someone had asked him to pick the number one scene he didn’t want to do—being without Louis would have been it.

His chest clenches as he holds back a sob. This is their fourth year touring as a group, but he can’t remember ever feeling this lonely. Instead of spending the time off before tour with his family in Cheshire, he had spent it halfway across the world in Los Angeles, pretending to date a lingerie model to help keep his real relationship safely under wraps. He would date the entire Victoria’s Secret catalogue if it meant making things easier for Louis, who never handled his own bearding well, but that doesn't mean he enjoys it. It's essentially just spending a lot of his rare free time with a stranger.

The constant pressure to be spotted alone, though, and to be the one household name from the band and the most recognizable face of the five boys… It’s draining. He tries not to complain, ever, because he knows how fortunate he is to live this life and to have Louis. But it’s been a long, long stretch of hiding big parts of his life and sharing specific other parts, of being a pretty puppet for photos, of always saying the right things and being with the right people. He has people to help train him and to maintain his public image, but a lot of the times that makes it harder instead of easier; it makes him feel like just a face with no substance. And he hates that.

It has started to feel more and more like Harry Styles and One Direction, which makes him sick to his stomach. Back on the X Factor, it had been so clear that Liam was the most experienced and the most driven to be famous, but Harry ended up thrust front and center instead. If he could change one thing from the past four years, that would be it. The other four always assure him that they don’t hold it against him, that they know it’s not his fault, and Harry knows it’s not his fault, too. But he still can’t help but feel continuously isolated, especially when things happen like tonight where all the boys get together and ‘forget’ to invite him along.

He shifts a little, and the plug presses harder against his prostate, ripping a hoarse cry from his throat. It doesn’t feel good, not at all, despite the fact that his cock is hard and flushed. He jerks his hands against the cuffs until they bite into his skin, making sure to keep a tight hold on the phone.

Why hadn’t he just told Louis he didn’t want to be alone? Why had he expected Louis to read his mind and stay in with him? He can’t blame the other boy at all; Louis had thought he was setting up a hot scene for the night, having had no idea what was going on in Harry’s head.

He manages to stop crying, and his cheeks feel cool and stiff with drying tears. Tipping his head backward, he looks at the phone in his hand. One quick call to Louis and the boy would back here with him. Moving his fingers carefully, fearful of dropping the phone, he unlocks the screen and brings up Louis’s contact page. 

An unexpected sick feeling of guilt washes over him. It’s not fair of him to tear Louis away from Zayn just because he can’t deal with feeling lonely. He hits the lock button and the screen goes dark, the tiny photo of Louis’s face next to his number disappearing. Straightening his neck back out, he closes his eyes and tries to relax. 

The constant vibrations inside him won’t let him sleep; they won’t even let his mind drift. Suddenly, they’re all he can focus on. He moves as much as his bonds will allow, trying to find a more comfortable position, but now the plug is driving him absolutely mad. He doesn’t really want the pleasure of an orgasm, especially not without Louis here, but he would like to come just so the intense pressure will go away. 

Panting, Harry plants his feet on the mattress and lifts his hips up, trying to find some relief. He can’t seem to take in a full breath, and the position makes every muscle in his body burn, but the plug vibrates more firmly against his prostate this way. A clear bead of precum gathers at the head of his cock, which has darkened to a purplish color from the ring.

With a frustrated sob, he drops back down. He’s come through a cock ring before, but there’s no way he can do it from a vibrating plug alone. Not without Louis’s delicate, beautiful hands stroking him off, too. He’s made things worse for himself now, though, his ass rhythmically clenching around the toy as the bead of precum grows. 

Hands trembling, he unlocks the phone screen again. Louis’s been gone for a little over thirty minutes. He probably only just got to the club. It would be so selfish of Harry to call him and color out, right? His thumb hovers over the phone icon next to Louis’s number. He could theoretically call Liam or Niall instead—it wouldn’t be the first time they’d found him in a compromising situation—but… That doesn’t feel right either. Liam is probably having fun with Andy, and Niall has been spending every spare second with the 5 Seconds of Summer boys. This isn’t their relationship; he can’t ruin their night because of it. 

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, watching the precum bubble from his slit and ooze down over his head. Biting back a whimper, he finally presses his finger down on the phone screen to call Louis.

With every ring, his anxiety doubles. Maybe Louis won’t answer, and he’ll be forced to wait for him to come back like he’s supposed to. The ringing stops, however, and is replaced with loud, unintelligible background noise.

“Harry?” he hears Louis yell. He doesn’t answer, knowing Louis won’t be able to hear him. “Hold on, I’m going to the loo, hold on.”

Harry waits as the awful noises of the club continue, and then suddenly, they’re much quieter. He realizes how hard and loud his own heartbeat is.

“Harry? Are you okay?” Louis asks at a much more normal volume.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a weak sob.

“Babe, what’s your color?” Louis demands, dropping his voice in case anyone in the bathroom is listening. 

“Yellow,” Harry manages to whimper. “R-red.”

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving right now,” Louis assures him. “Will you be okay until I get back?”

Harry sobs again, fresh tears filling his eyes. He has no choice but to be okay until Louis gets back.

“Fuck. I told the guard in the hall to come in if you yelled,” Louis says. “So yell if you need him, alright? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” Harry whispers. 

“Okay. Love you, Haz.”

The call ends, and Harry closes his teary eyes with a sigh. A strange calmness washes over him now that he knows Louis is on his way, and he knows he won't need to call for the guard. He can feel his hips rocking against the bed of their own accord, subconsciously chasing the pleasure from the plug with no hope of release. He won’t have to deal with this torture much longer. If Louis and Zayn went back to V2, it shouldn’t take Louis too long to get back. 

\- - - - - - - - - -

About fifteen minutes later, Harry’s broken out of his hazy thoughts by the sound of a keycard in the door. He forces his eyes open, his eyelashes heavy and sticky with drying tears, as Louis throws the door open and bursts inside. 

“I’m sorry,” he gushes, climbing on the bed with Harry and kneeling between his outstretched legs. “I’m so sorry, love. Come on, let’s get this out of you.” 

Harry whimpers quietly as the vibrations stop and the plug is pulled uncomfortably from his body. Louis carefully tugs the ring off his cock, knowing he’s oversensitive and trying not to touch him too much, and then quickly unbuckles the ankle cuffs and unlocks the handcuffs.

Once Harry’s freed, Louis scoops up his larger body and cradles him sideways in his lap, tucking Harry’s head under his chin and holding him tightly. “I love you so much,” he murmurs, rocking back and forth. “You’re so good, Harry, I love you so much.”

Locked safe in Louis’s arms now, Harry can’t stop the tears from coming. They drip off his cheeks and down his neck, all the way to his bare chest, and Louis just keeps whispering sweet words and rocking him gently. They stay like that for a while until Harry’s sobs quiet down to hiccups, his tears and naked skin making him shiver, and his unclenches his fists from where he realizes they’re gripping Louis’s shirt.

Louis brushes Harry’s tangled curls back from his forehead, thumbing away the wetness on his cheeks. The deeply concerned look in his blue eyes makes Harry turn and hide his face in Louis’s neck. He knows Louis expects an explanation for him coloring out, but he doesn’t know if he’s ready to give it to him. He just wants to keep holding him for a few more hours. Maybe days.

“Harry,” Louis tries gently. He kisses the top of Harry’s head and rubs his bare arm. “You want to put some clothes on?” 

Harry shakes his head. He’s cold, and he feels startlingly naked against Louis’s clothed body, but his cock is still hard and aching, and he needs release. He just doesn’t know how to ask for it, so instead of using his words, he turns his hips in towards Louis’s and rubs his erection against the older boy’s tummy.

“You want to come?” Louis asks, not masking his surprise.

Harry blushes but nods, whimpering against Louis’s neck when he feels a firm hand wrap around his length. He’s so intensely sensitive from wearing the ring and plug for an hour, but the pressure is almost painful, and he has to get it out. He doesn’t feel sexy, he doesn’t feel turned on, and he doesn’t feel like he deserves an orgasm, but he’ll never be able to fully calm down if he doesn’t get one. So he bites down on the neckline of Louis’s t-shirt and groans as the boy starts jerking him off.

He comes quickly, squirming with discomfort in Louis’s lap, his toes curling in the sheets. Louis wipes his hand clean on the sheets and whispers over and over how good Harry is as the orgasm knocks a few more tears loose from Harry’s eyes. Now he feels truly exhausted, both mentally and physically drained, and he sags in Louis’s lap.

“Alright, love, let’s get you tucked in,” Louis says, lifting Harry off of his undoubtedly numb legs and laying him back against the pillows. He pulls the dirty sheet over Harry’s naked body, followed by the duvet, and then bends over to press a kiss to his forehead. “Are you okay if I go get washed up for bed?”

Harry nods, rolling over onto his side and turning his back to Louis, scared if he looks at him too long the other boy will ask him the questions he’s not ready to answer. He hears Louis sigh and then pad over to the bathroom, leaving the door open while he washes his face and brushes his teeth and changes into pajamas.

Harry must fall asleep, because it seems like only a second later that Louis slides into bed behind him. “Harry,” the older boy says softly, kissing the back of his neck. “Do you want to talk about it now or later?”

Harry turns his face into the pillow. Apparently Louis isn’t going to give him a choice about whether or not they discuss this, but he does get to choose when. “Later,” he mumbles, voice muffled.

Louis sighs, rubbing his hand up and down Harry’s spine. “Okay. Go to sleep, I’m not going anywhere.”

And that’s exactly what Harry’s been waiting to hear all night.


	6. Trusting in Tokyo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis gets Harry to tell him why he colored out, Harry gets Louis to make love to him, Louis gets Harry a little too riled up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little shorter than usual, but I thought a quicker update would be worth it!

** **

**Monday, March 2—Tokyo, Japan  
-  _Louis_ -**

The night before had shaken Louis up more than he cares to admit, and he still isn’t sure what set Harry off. He hadn’t pressured the boy to talk about it all day, mostly because they’d had one more concert to do in Japan, and he didn’t want to affect Harry’s performance. But now that show is over, they’re flying home to London midday tomorrow, and Louis is not sitting on a twelve-hour flight without having talked this through.

After they had slept in each other’s arms all night, Harry spent the day determinedly avoiding Louis. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, and it hadn’t been a surprise. Usually when Harry feels vulnerable or upset, he pushes people away. Louis is more than used to it by now, so he had given Harry space. But now they need to talk. 

It’s almost midnight, and they’re packing their bags so they’re ready to go tomorrow. The process mostly consists of Louis rolling t-shirts and joggers into balls and Harry carefully folding thousands of dollars worth of designer outfits. Louis’s always jittery after a show, but since he’s anxious about engaging Harry in conversation, his energy is on overdrive now. He flits around the suite, finding little things of his tucked into every corner and crevice, and he practices throwing them into his open suitcase from increasing distances. 

Once he’s pretty certain everything irreplaceable of his is packed away, he comes and sits down on the bed where Harry is buttoning up shirts to be folded. Harry makes a little face when Louis’s sudden weight causes the shirts to bounce around. 

“Want help?” Louis asks, even though he knows the answer.

Harry shakes his head, staring resolutely down as smooths out the shirt. He’s got a major pout going on, so Louis reaches a hand out to touch his lower lip, and Harry jerks back like Louis hit him. 

“Harry, come off it!” Louis says, reaching for him again and grabbing onto his shoulder. Harry tries to pull away, but Louis digs his fingers into his sleeve. “Why are you acting like this?” 

Harry’s mouth tightens into a hard line, and he pries Louis’s hand off his arm “I need to finish packing,” he grumbles, refolding the same shirt before placing it in his suitcase.

Louis sighs loudly, lying on his side to watch Harry as he continues to pack. He knows Harry is going to keep acting like this until they talk about last night, but getting him to start talking is the tricky part. It’s hard to be patient, though, when he’s feeling so damn restless. 

“Would you stop that?” Harry snaps, indicating Louis’s hands, which he had been unconsciously drumming on the duvet.

“Would you stop packing so we can talk?” Louis asks, sitting up straight again. “We _need_ to talk before we go home tomorrow.”

Louis can see Harry’s chest expand as he takes a deep breath. “What do you want to talk about?” the boy says childishly, still avoiding Louis’s eyes. 

“Last night,” Louis answers as tolerantly as he can manage. “You colored out, babe.”

Harry closes his eyes and takes another deep breath. “It’s fine,” he mutters.

Louis reaches out for him again, and this time Harry doesn’t pull away, so Louis tugs the younger boy onto the bed with him. He sits up against the headboard, and Harry curls up beside him, dropping his head onto Louis’s thigh. It’s a good method for not having to look Louis in the face while they talk, but Louis won’t push it. He pets Harry’s hair soothingly instead for positive reinforcement.

“Remind me again what we did last night,” Louis says, picking his words carefully.

He can feel Harry’s warm sigh through the fabric of his sweatpants. “You tied me down to the bed,” he mumbles. “With a plug and a ring.”

“And then?” 

“And then you left.” 

“Yes,” Louis says, rubbing the pads of his fingers into Harry’s scalp. “Did I leave you in a safe situation?” 

Harry nods his head.

“Did I give you a way to contact me if you needed me?”

Harry nods again.

“Did I make sure there was somebody nearby to help you if you needed?”

Another nod.

“Did I give you more than I knew you could handle?” 

Harry shakes his head this time.

Louis pauses, letting that all sink in for both of them. “So then,” he starts softly, “What happened when I left?” 

He looks down, and he can see Harry chewing his lip and playing with the Adidas logo on Louis’s joggers. He doesn’t push him to answer, just keeps stroking his hair while he waits for a reply. 

“I don’t _know_ ,” Harry finally says, his voice strained. “I… I’d felt off since the show ended, and… I came back and couldn’t find you. And then everyone was together, but no one told me. And when I finally got you alone, you were leaving again. To be with Zayn.” 

He goes quiet again, digging his nails into Louis’s thigh. Louis frowns, his hand going still in Harry’s hair, and he waits a moment to choose his words again. “You felt…left out?” he asks. 

Harry moves his head in a tiny nod. “I mean, I feel left out when it comes to the band all the time… That’s nothing new.” 

Louis’s chest aches at those words, but Harry’s right; Louis has known about those feelings for the past four years. Harry ends up isolated from the rest of them frequently, whether it’s separate flights or hotels, star-studded events, pap walks on the street, endorsements—a million things. Not to mention the fact that the two of them have been forcibly separated in public for a long time now. 

“And then I left you by yourself,” Louis says, starting to understand what had happened. “I would’ve stayed if you had told me, love.”

“I tried to ask, but I just felt so bad,” Harry admits. “You wanted to go out… I didn’t want to ruin that.” 

“Harry.” Louis gently cups the boy’s chin and turns his head so he’s forced to look up at him. “I can always going out to a stupid club. If you need me, then the only place I want to be is with you.” 

Harry’s eyes flood with tears, but he blinks quickly so they disappear. “I know,” he whispers. “I should’ve said something.” 

Louis sighs. “I could tell you weren’t feeling right from the beginning,” he says. “It was stupid of me to leave you alone. I’m sorry.” 

Harry shakes his head, turning his body so he can more comfortably gaze up at Louis’s face. “Not your fault,” he says firmly. “It’s my responsibility to tell you when I’m not up for something.” 

“I’m proud of you for calling me and coloring out,” Louis adds, because it’s important Harry recognizes that he did the right thing. “I know that wasn’t easy to do.” 

Harry reaches up with both arms and catches Louis around the neck, tugging his head down so they can kiss. The angle hurts Louis’s spine, and their lips don’t quite line up, but he doesn’t care, just kisses Harry as best he can. 

“Love you,” Harry says softly, blinking up at him with huge green eyes. 

“Love you more,” Louis says. “I can’t wait to spend the next week back home with you.” They’ve only been on tour a few weeks, but he’s really looking forward to going back to London for a little while. He’s helping judge a new singing television show, he’s going to see his family back in Donny, and he and Harry have—for once—not been given explicit instructions to stay on opposite sides of England. They can both sense a change in management’s handling of their situation, but they’ve both been wary to openly acknowledge it. It’s scary to be hopeful. 

Sensing Louis’s mind is elsewhere, Harry sneaks a hand under the boy’s shirt and tweaks a nipple. Louis immediately jumps, jostling Harry’s head in his lap and making him giggle. “You’re so sensitive,” Harry teases, rubbing his thumb over the hardened nub. 

“Keep that up, Harold, and see what happens,” Louis warns, little jolts of pleasure shooting through his body from Harry’s fingers. His nipples _are_ so sensitive, always have been.

“What happens?” Harry asks with mock curiosity, tightening his fingers until Louis lets out an embarrassingly high noise.

Louis tries to pull back, but he’s pressed up against the headboard, so he reaches up his own shirt and grabs Harry around the wrist. Yanking the boy’s hand away, he grabs the other wrist and maneuvers their bodies until he’s perched on Harry’s hips and pinning his arms to the bed with a triumphant grin. 

Harry looks equally as pleased with himself, and Louis realizes he played right into his little game. He lowers his head down so he can kiss that smile right off Harry’s face. “Babe,” he murmurs against his lips. “I don’t know if we should—”

“No,” Harry cuts him off, his eyes fluttering open. “I want to.”

Louis trails kisses down Harry’s jaw and neck, sucking at his collarbone while keeping him pinned down. “But last night was—” 

“Last night was last night,” Harry argues, moaning when Louis nibbles on one of his swallow tattoos. “Tonight, I want to… I just want to be with you.”

Louis sighs but smiles against Harry’s skin. How is he supposed to argue with that? “You want to top or bottom?” he asks, figuring he owes Harry the choice after causing him to color out.

Harry rolls his hips up against him, whispering, “Bottom.” 

Louis nods before releasing Harry’s wrists so they can both shed all their clothes as fast as possible. When every piece is in a pile on the floor, he knocks Harry onto his back and grabs his knees, bending them in toward his chest so Harry’s perfect hole comes into view. He runs a finger over it gently, rubbing circles. 

Harry keens, wiggling his hips and making grabby hands at Louis’s head. Louis laughs, ducking down to kiss Harry’s entrance, and he feels Harry’s fingers tangle in his hair to keep Louis’s face there. Rolling his eyes even though Harry can’t see them, he sticks his tongue out and licks over the puckered muscle.

Harry’s immediate shudder and whine encourage him to continue, and he lets the boy’s hands in his hair guide him as he works him over with his lips and tongue. He can’t quite breathe with the way Harry’s holding his head, but he doesn’t care in the slightest, just focusing on pleasing his boy as much as he can. 

“Lou,” Harry moans, crossing his ankles against Louis’s upper back so his thighs close around his head. Louis feels an immediate zing of excitement up his spine, more than happy to be suffocated between Harry’s legs. 

He keeps eating him out until he feels lightheaded from lack of oxygen and has to pinch Harry’s ass to get him to let go. He straightens up with a gasp of air, his cheeks pink and his mouth wet, and Harry looks equally as wrecked where he’s panting in the sheets.

“Love when you do that,” Harry mumbles, giving him a crooked smile. Lou smiles too, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Love doing it,” he replies, teasing the pads of two fingers over Harry’s slick entrance. He can feel the muscle clenching like Harry’s body is just begging to be filled. 

“Please,” Harry gasps, spreading his legs wider. “Please fuck me.”

“No need to beg, love,” Louis teases, making more color rise in Harry’s cheeks. Louis grabs the bottle of lube off the bedside table that he’d left there last night and pours some over his fingers. Leaning in to suck on one of Harry’s balls, he slides two fingers past his tight entrance.

Harry sucks in a deep breath and lets it out in a groan, and Louis immediately crooks his fingers to find Harry’s spot. He knows he’s found it when Harry’s thighs start trembling, and the boy digs his heels into the mattress. Louis carefully sucks his other ball into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it while fucking him on his fingers. He slides a third one in at the same time he gives his balls a particularly hard suck, making Harry’s hips jack off the bed at the combination of pleasure and pain. 

Louis leaves a quick, wet kiss on Harry’s taint before he straightens up, continuing to pump his three fingers in and out of Harry’s body, spreading them and turning them and getting him nice and loose. Harry reaches behind his head and grabs the pillow with two hands, biting his lips and struggling to hold to still.

“Ready?” he asks, rubbing over Harry’s prostate again. Harry gives him a shaky but eager nod, digging his fingers into the pillow. 

Louis pulls his fingers out, using the remaining lube on his hand to slick his erection up a little. He gives himself a few firm tugs to get fully hard before lining up at Harry’s hole. Keeping eye contact with Harry, both their irises almost completely obscured by dilated pupils, he slowly starts to push inside him. 

Harry pries his teeth out of his lower lip with a gasp when Louis bottoms out. He reaches with his long arms to grab Louis’s shoulders, tugging him closer so Louis bends over his body, and their stomachs and chests press together. Louis lowers his head so he can kiss the year tattooed on Harry’s trap. 

“You…” Louis whispers again his skin, he voice a little strained as he eases himself out and thrusts back in. “Always…so tight…”

Harry turns and kisses Louis’s hair, and Louis lifts his head up a little so they can connect their mouths. They make out without hurry or dominance, and he fucks Harry at the same pace. It feels really good to just have nice, vanilla sex for a change, and even though his veins are practically vibrating with energy, Louis doesn’t want to rush it.

“Harder,” Harry demands after a little while, and Louis huffs out a laugh.

“Whatever you want,” he says before pulling out and putting a little more force behind his drive back in. Harry’s lets out a breathy groan as his body takes Louis like he was made for it, warm and slick and so, so tight.

Louis hovers over him, propping himself up with his hands on Harry’s shoulders and their faces only inches apart. Harry’s forehead is shining with sweat, his curls spread over the pillow, his body rocking with each of Louis’s thrusts. There’s only the tiniest ring of bright green around his pupils. 

“Love you,” Louis murmurs. He feels Harry’s legs lift and wrap around him, his heels pressing into his lower back and forcing him in deeper.

“Love you more,” Harry says, his kiss-swollen mouth widening into a grin. 

A shivers run over Louis’s body, whether from his approaching orgasm or Harry’s words he’s not sure, and he subconsciously picks up the pace a little. He tucks his hands under Harry’s armpits and curls his fingers around his shoulders, holding on for leverage. Harry doesn’t complain at the increase in speed, just digs his feet harder into the base of Louis’s spine. 

Louis’s so lost in Harry’s damn eyes that his orgasm sneaks up on him, and he comes inside Harry’s body with a hoarse shout. He drops on top of him without pulling out, pinning Harry’s erection under his hips and breathing hard as Harry’s clenching muscles milk him of every last drop. 

Suddenly, Louis realizes he’s being lifted, and he lets out a surprised squeak as he finds himself face-up on the bed. Big hands grab at his legs and spread them apart, and then he feels something hard pressing against his entrance.

“Hey!” he cries, pushing against Harry’s broad chest as he tries to enter him dry. “The lube is right there!” 

Harry looks practically drunk on pent up energy and pleasure, his gaze unfocused as he tries to comprehend what Louis’s saying. Louis quickly comes to terms with the fact that he’s going to get fucked without being stretched first, but he certainly isn’t going to do it dry, so he fishes the little plastic bottle out of the sheets and slicks up Harry’s erection himself. 

Harry takes that as the go-ahead to start, so he grabs Louis behind the knees and bends him basically in half before pushing his cock against his hole. Louis can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut and hold his breath against the pain, Harry’s impressive size breaching him without prep, and he distantly wonders where the other boy’s sudden urge to top came from. The adrenaline after a show sometimes does funny things to them, and Harry probably didn’t expend it properly since they just came back and started packing and then had a serious discussion. Getting fucked without release must have set him off.

He lets his breath out in a broken cry when Harry bottoms out. Harry clumsily brushes Louis’s sweaty fringe off his forehead almost apologetically before pulling out and slamming back in, making Louis see stars. His muscles are naturally loose after his orgasm, but Harry is not small, and his ass is burning as it’s forcibly stretched around him. He digs his nails into Harry’s shoulder blades, crossing his legs around Harry’s waist like Harry had done to him to try and feel like he has some semblance of control.

“Tight,” Harry grunts out as he settles into a rhythm that has Louis’s skull knocking into the headboard.

The few minutes that it takes Harry to reach his peak feel like a dizzying blur to Louis, and he’s thankful that Harry isn’t trying to drag it out. The boy sinks his teeth into Louis’s chest—the pain of that momentarily distracts Louis from the pain of being fucked—before he starts to come, his hips thrusting erratically as he pours his seed into Louis’s body. 

Harry collapses down next to him, pulling out of Louis with a soft groan that Louis responds to with a hiss of discomfort. He doesn’t fight when all four of Harry’s limbs wrap around him from behind, though, holding him impossibly tight. That always feels nice. 

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles into the back of his neck. “M’sorry, I dunno where that came from, I love you.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Louis sighs, rolling his eyes with an amused smile. “You’re gonna be the one who has to listen to me whine about my sore bum on a twelve-hour flight tomorrow.” 

“I love your bum,” Harry says, nuzzling his hair. “It’s big and feels very good.” 

Louis snorts, trying to tug the duvet over them. “I love your bum, too. And you.” He finds Harry’s hands where they’re wrapped around him and tangles up their fingers. “And I’m sorry about last night.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Harry says, echoing him. It sounds like he’s regaining his senses a bit as he comes down from his orgasm and his adrenaline rush. “I can’t wait for tomorrow. I can’t wait to go home.” 

“Me too,” Louis murmurs, flipping over in the cage of Harry’s limbs so he can kiss him. “Are you sleepy?” 

Harry shakes his head almost immediately. They’re both sex-hazy and sated, but they’re also both still a little too wired to go to bed. “Movie?” he asks. 

“Sure,” Louis says, pulling away to grab the remote off the bedside table. Harry quickly steals it from him and tosses it aside.

“Let me get my laptop, we can watch _Grease_.”


	7. Longing in London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's loneliness has him acting a little crazy; Louis just wants to know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the AMAZING [Pass-The-Pencil](http://ptp-explicit.tumblr.com/post/125460356768/commission-for-ropewithnoanchor-and-the-ficwe) for the drawing for this chapter. Everyone should go check out their incredible artwork!

** **

 

**Sunday, March 8—London, England  
****- _Harry_ -**  

Harry checks the time on his phone. It’s a little after eleven, and Louis has been gone for just about an hour now. 

Chewing on his lower lip, Harry pulls out a set of bright white sheets from the dryer and brings them to the bedroom. He has been trying to keep himself busy while Louis is out, clubbing at Chinawhite with a handful of other guys that Harry knows better than to be jealous of but _why_ does his stomach feel like a thousand knots? He sighs, putting the fresh sheets on a chair temporarily while pulling the dirty ones off the mattress. 

Louis had fucked him in bed last night, since they had spent the previous few days getting reacquainted with the other areas of their flat—the shower, the staircase, the sofa, the kitchen counter, the kitchen table, the kitchen floor... Harry glances at the handcuffs still dangling from the headboard as he tugs off the pillowcases. It had been good, all of it; it’s always good to be home and enjoy their time alone together somewhere other than a strange hotel. And it’s good to be in a bed with a metal headboard _and_ footboard. 

But Harry just can’t shake the heavy, dark feeling of loneliness. Even when he’s wrapped up in Louis’s arms, eating takeaway and watching old TV episodes on the DVR, all he can think about is the next time they’ll be apart. He knows he’s not acting right, and he knows the first month of tour is always the hardest, but even when he had spent a day with his mother back in Cheshire he had been thinking of Louis. He just hopes he doesn’t look too miserable in the paparazzi photos from lunch. 

It takes him a few tries to get the fitted sheet on, since once corner seems very determined to pop off every time he goes to the other side and make him wish he had someone else here to help. Why couldn’t Louis have stayed home tonight? Harry respects the fact that the boy is trying to make a name for himself, of course he does, and Harry’s proud of him for it, of course he is, but they’re only home for a little over a week. They already had to spend time apart to see their families, and then Louis had had to spend an entire day at a television studio to judge auditions for a new singing show he’s a part of. But the last time Louis had gone clubbing when Harry felt lonely had resulted in Harry coloring out. 

Just to prove a point—what point exactly, he isn’t sure—Harry had gone to Emma Watson’s _He For She_ event that evening, even though management had been furious with him for not letting them know in time for them to get the press on it. But halfway through he’d started absolutely panicking, and he ended up phoning Louis to pick him up instead of just riding with a chauffer. 

He’s not sure if Louis has picked up on his…unusual behavior. He hadn’t mentioned anything on the ride home from the event, just quietly stroking Harry’s back while Harry had clung to his side. They had discussed his feeling lonely after he colored out in Tokyo, Harry recalls as he lays the flat sheet out over the bed, the soft scent of their detergent filling the air. But since then, it’s been a crazy blur of sex, traveling, and family time. He doesn’t want to ruin their precious moments together by talking about _feelings_. 

He wrestles the clean duvet cover onto the comforter, again wishing he had another person to help him, before arranging it neatly on the bed with the top third folded back. He puts the pillowcases on next, fluffing up the pillows and setting them against the headboard, running his fingers over the handcuffs there wistfully. 

That’s when Harry gets an idea. 

He grabs their black leather bag full of kinky paraphernalia and puts it on the bed. Digging through it, he carefully selects a variety of items: a pair of handcuffs like the ones on their headboard, a ball gag, a padded blindfold, a bottle of lube, and a curved vibrator. He arranges them into an artful square on top of the bright white duvet—“knolling,” the photography technique is called, he thinks proudly—and uses his iPhone to snap a square picture of it. He hits the ‘edit’ button, immediately making the photo black and white and raising the contrast a bit. 

Satisfied, he sends the photo to Louis along with a quick message. 

The little ellipses immediately pop up, and Harry’s heart pounds as he waits for Louis’s answer to come through. 

The little bubble of excitement that had grown in Harry’s chest immediately deflates at that. Frowning, he sends Louis the emoji with its eyes closed and tongue out and tries to come up with a better idea. He tosses all the items back into the bag unceremoniously but holds onto the vibrator, rolling it in his fingers as he thinks. 

Quickly kicking off his pants and hiking his shirt up around his chest, Harry lies down on the bed on his tummy. He carefully tucks the vibrator between his bare ass cheeks, then opens up the camera app on his phone and awkwardly angles his arm behind him to try and take the picture. 

It’s damn near impossible to get a good shot. If he manages to get the angle correctly, his arm shakes so much that it comes out blurry. All the clear images are only of half his butt or just his lower back. Growing increasingly frustrated, his arm aching, Harry grabs the vibrator and fires it at the bedroom wall. It hits with an unsatisfying thud of silicone against plaster, the screwed-on end that holds the batteries in popping off as it falls to the floor. 

Harry sighs, immediately feeling stupid and going over to retrieve the toy. He puts it back together and back in the bag, pulling his pants back on and sitting on the edge of the bed to thumb through the failed photos. None of them are worth sending to Louis; none of them will effectively lure him home. 

He’s scared to take any photo that could easily be identified as him, what with all his telltale tattoos and the constant phone hack threats, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Wracking his brain for what he thinks would turn Louis on the most, Harry pulls out a small, neon blue vibrator and a ring gag. 

Fighting down the embarrassment at doing this to himself, he opens his mouth and fits the large silver ring behind his teeth, securing the black leather straps around the back of his head. It’s hard not to catch his curls in the buckle, and he wonders how Louis always manages to do it so effortlessly. He picks up his phone again, heat rising in his face when he catches a glimpse of himself in the front-facing camera, his jaws open and his lips stretched wide. He tucks a finger of his free hand into his gaping mouth as sexily as he can, quickly snapping a few pictures. 

Once he’s sure he’s got a good shot, Harry quickly removes the gag and swallows down the spit that’s already built up. He crops the photo down so it’s just his mouth—much harder to identify than his entire face, should the photo somehow end up in the wrong hands—and debates on making it black and white before embarrassingly realizing it’ll be his dark pink lips that Louis loves so much that will bring him home. 

He slicks up the blue vibrator and settles on the bed with his legs spread. Fingering himself open will take patience he doesn’t have, and the toy isn’t big, so he just bites his lip and slowly works it inside himself. Once it’s in all the way, he wipes the lube off his fingers and picks his phone back up. He uses the other hand to lift his balls out of the way before carefully taking a picture of just an inch of bright blue sticking out from between his legs. 

Cropping that photo down too, making sure his hip tattoos aren’t in it, he holds his breath and sends both to Louis. 

His hand trembles as he stares down at the phone and waits for Louis to answer, his heart leaping into his throat when the grey ellipses appear. 

Harry frowns at the two messages. What the hell does that mean? He sends Louis a bunch of the slyly smiling emoji with one eggplant emoji tacked on at the end for good measure, but this time, Louis doesn’t answer. 

After five straight minutes of staring at his phone (and a few urges to throw it at the wall just like the vibrator before), Harry locks the screen and slips it into his pocket before heading down to the kitchen. Louis is going to be tipsy at the very least when he comes home—if he ever comes home—so maybe he’ll want food, Harry thinks, opening up the fridge. 

He frowns at its minimal contents. They’ve mostly been eating out or getting takeaway, so all that’s in the fridge is leftovers, milk for tea, and a couple Red Bulls; absolutely not enough ingredients to cook something. He could make a quick trip to the store, but that’s problematic in itself, not to mention he might end up missing Louis’s return. At the very least, he can make sure there’s a mug of hot tea waiting for Louis when he comes through the door. 

He fills the kettle and puts it on the stove so it’s ready to go, dropping a bag of Yorkshire into a mug on the counter. Then he wanders into the living room, dropping onto their enormous couch and turning on the television, desperately trying to kill time. 

Harry’s wrapped up in a blanket, tucked into the corner of the L-shaped couch and halfway through his third episode of Friends when his phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s finally a text from Louis. 

Smiling, Harry texts him back a couple yellow hearts. He’s not really sure how long it’ll take Louis to get home, but, he thinks with a glance over at the mug and the kettle, he really wants to do something _big_ for Louis when he gets home. Bigger than tea. Big enough to convince him not to go out anymore. 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

When Louis unlocks and opens the front door, Harry immediately hands him a steaming mug of tea. 

“Hi,” he says, kissing Louis once the door closes. Louis’s lips taste mostly like cigarettes but with the faintest hint of vodka. 

“Hi yourself,” Louis says, giving the mug an inquisitive look before taking a sip. Harry’s given it just enough time to cool so it’s perfectly drinkable. 

“How was your night?” Harry asks as they walk together into the kitchen. Louis immediately drops down onto a kitchen chair, just as Harry had hoped, holding the tea in one hand and adjusting his fringe with the other. 

“Fun,” he muses, taking another sip. “Fucking hate the paps though.” 

Harry nods his head sympathetically, trying not to hover over Louis as he drinks. His eyes flick over to the empty fruit bowl in the middle of the kitchen table, which has a large roll of duct tape sitting inside it that he hopes the other boy doesn’t notice. When Louis finally puts the empty mug down, Harry immediately straddles him, sitting on his thighs and ducking his head in to kiss his neck. 

“Missed you,” he whispers, sucking at Louis’s pulse point. 

Louis lets out a surprised but pleased groan, his hands moving to grip Harry’s waist. “Missed you too, love,” he says a little uncertainly. He slips his fingers underneath Harry’s shirt and then settles them on his waist again, this time touching skin. “Everything alright?” 

“Never better,” Harry answers quickly, giving Louis a little bite that makes him suck in a sharp breath. He starts rolling his hips, grinding against Louis as his lips travel along the boy’s scruffy jawline.

“Fuck,” Louis grunts, moving his hips up to meet Harry’s. 

Noticing he’s got Louis turned on now, Harry locks their lips again. As he slides his tongue into Louis’s mouth, he simultaneously reaches over to the table, blindly trying to find the fruit bowl. His hand finally closes around the roll of silver duct tape, and he brings it back over as he parts their mouths. 

Louis’s panting softly and looking up at Harry with glazed blue eyes. Harry grabs the end of the tape and pulls it, more to show Louis what he’s doing than anything. It makes a loud sound, and Louis blinks, trying to comprehend what he’s seeing. 

“Stay still,” Harry whispers, sliding off of Louis’s legs. 

He guides the boy’s arms back behind the chair and starts winding the tape around his wrists, making sure to put it over the sleeves of his jean jacket so it doesn’t catch on his skin. Dropping down to the floor, Harry uses the tape to secure Louis’s ankles to the front two legs of the kitchen chair, again putting it over the material of his black skinnies and not his skin. He’s not entirely sure it would hold Louis should he actually want to escape, but for tonight’s purposes, it’ll do. 

Straightening up, Harry puts the roll of tape on the kitchen table so it’s still within reach. He stares at Louis for a moment, taking in the sexy way his chest is pushed out from having his arms bound behind his back, his tattoos visible through the taut white t-shirt under his jacket, his half-hard cock pushing against the flies of his jeans. Harry grabs a handful of the boy’s baby soft hair, forcing his head backward and looking him in the eye. 

“Color?” he demands. 

He can see Louis’s throat work as he swallows. “Green?” 

“Is that a question?” he asks, softening his tone a bit. 

Louis pauses but then shakes his head. “No. Green.” 

Satisfied, Harry smiles. “Did you like my pictures?” he asks conversationally as he pops the button on Louis’s jeans. 

“Yeah,” Louis says, watching Harry’s fingers tug down his zipper. He lifts up as best he can so Harry can pull his jeans and briefs down to his knees. “They made me think I’d be topping, though,” he adds. 

Harry glances up at him, green eyes gleaming. “You are.” 

Harry doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else, getting down on his knees and sucking Louis’s cock into his mouth. He can feel Louis’s thighs tense underneath his hands, his erection growing between Harry’s lips as he bobs his head slowly, up and down. 

“Mm, fuck,” Louis moans, trying to push his hips up to get deeper in Harry’s mouth. Harry lets him, swallowing around his length, working him over until he’s fully hard and ready. 

When he finally pulls off, Louis thrusts a few times and whines to try and get Harry to keep going, but Harry just grins. “Be patient,” he teases, standing up and pulling is own shirt off over his head. “Trust me.” 

It’s hard to pay attention to getting himself undressed when Louis is such a sight, bound to a chair in the middle of the kitchen with his jeans around his knees and his cock hard and flushed and shining with spit; Harry nearly falls flat on his face when he tries to step out of his briefs. Louis watches quietly, peering up at him through his messy fringe. 

Finally naked, Harry comes back over to straddle Louis’s thighs. He grinds down, rubbing their erections together and catching Louis’s mouth in a deep kiss. “Love you,” he whispers, reaching over to grab a bottle of lube from the fruit bowl. 

“Love you, too,” Louis manages as Harry pours the cool liquid over the heated head of his cock, smoothing it down his length with a hand. 

When Louis’s slicked up, Harry takes him firmly by the base, holding him steady as he lifts up and prepares to sink down. Louis gasps as he feels himself slide into Harry with relative ease, realizing the younger boy must have opened himself up while Louis was on his way home. 

Harry holds his breath as he lowers himself down, his thighs shaking with the effort of moving so slowly. He had fingered himself open as patiently and thoroughly as he could manage once he’d gotten the text that Louis was leaving the club, and soon he’s fully seated in Louis’s lap. He rotates his hips, groaning at the feeling of Louis’s filling him up, trying to adjust to his size. 

“Harry,” Louis breaths, eyes wide and bright blue. 

Determined, Harry starts to move, planting his feet on either side of the chair and lifting back up. It’s not the easiest position, and he’s slightly terrified of accidentally knocking Louis and the chair backwards, but Harry grabs hold of Louis’s shoulders and does the best he can. Judging by the noises coming from Louis’s mouth, he’s doing a good enough job. 

“No one in the club makes you feel like this, right?” Harry asks, his voice low and rough as he moves, fucking himself on Louis’s dick. 

A frown flickers across Louis’s face. “No… No one,” he says. 

When Harry’s muscles are burning and he has to take a break, he impales himself fully again and lets his legs rest. Louis makes a desperate little noise, trying to move his hips up underneath Harry’s weight, leaning forward to mouth and bite at Harry’s sweaty chest. 

“Hey,” Harry scolds, taking the boy by the hair and jerking his head back. He rolls his hips a little to pull another noise out of Louis, cutting off the sound with a kiss. They pant into each other’s mouth as Harry rocks back and forth, his fingers still tight in Louis’s hair. 

“M’gonna come,” Louis mumbles when Harry begins bouncing up and down in his lap again. “Fuck, keep going.” 

Harry does keep going, but he slows down, clenching around Louis’s cock as he moves. Louis starts twitching and writhing beneath him, clearly close to orgasm, so Harry moves even slower in response. His thighs feel like they’re on fire—he really ought to do more squats in the gym—but the frantic look on Louis’s face is worth it. 

“Harry, Harry, I’m so close,” the older boy gasps, struggling against the silver tape binding his limbs. “Come on, I-I’m almost there…” 

Biting down on his lip to keep from grinning, Harry lifts up, pauses like he’s about to sink back down, but then stands up completely, parting their bodies. Louis lets out a howl like he’s been wounded. 

If he had thought Louis looked debauched before, it was nothing compared to how he looks now. His jean jacket has fallen off his shoulders, tight around his biceps, and his white t-shirt clinging to his body with sweat. His face is flushed and shining as he struggles, thrusting his hips and chasing after the tight, wet heat he needs so badly. 

Noticing how hard and heavy his own cock feels between his legs, Harry realizes he hasn’t touched himself once. Smirking, he wraps his fingers around his own length, stroking them up and down and making sure Louis is watching. 

“Harry,” Louis says, tone hard, glaring at Harry’s hand as it moves. 

“Yeah?” Harry asks breathily, eyelids fluttering closed as his strokes speed up. 

The sudden noise of ripping tape breaks him away from his pleasure, and he sees that Louis's managed to wriggle his arms out the jacket and is now freeing his legs. Before he can react, Louis leaps out of the chair at him, tangled up in his jeans and taking Harry down with his full body weight. 

“You fucking tease,” Louis grunts, wrestling Harry onto his stomach on the kitchen floor. Harry could probably stop him if he wanted to—he has the size advantage—but the jolt of excitement that runs through him at Louis’s sudden dominance tells him not to fight back too much. 

Louis pins him down with a hand between Harry’s shoulder blades, pushing Harry’s thighs apart with his knees. He uses his free hand to guide his cock back into Harry’s hole, and they both groan in unison. 

Louis’s thrusts immediately come hard and fast, driving Harry’s hips into the tile and punching soft, breathy sounds from his mouth. Harry tries to steady himself by planting his hands on the floor, but Louis’s leaning too heavily on his spine for him to lift his torso off the ground. He just has to stay there and take it, just let Louis use him as he sees fit. 

And how can he complain? He has Louis’s full and undivided attention now. 

“Gonna come,” Louis announces a few minutes later. The ‘and you can’t stop me’ goes unsaid. 

Harry doesn’t say anything, shutting his eyes and focusing on the feeling of Louis’s weight on his back and cock drilling his ass. He’s not quite hitting Harry’s prostate in this position, but Harry doesn’t care; this is about Louis’s pleasure now. He just prays it’s good enough that Louis will rethink leaving Harry to go out at night. 

Louis’s groans get louder, his thrusts get harder, and then his nails are digging into Harry’s back and he’s shooting his seed deep inside Harry’s body. The cry of pleasure he lets out makes Harry want to jump for joy— _he_ made Louis feel that good. Nobody else. 

Harry’s surprised when, instead of collapsing on top of him, Louis’s weight and warmth completely disappear. Nervously, Harry waits a few minutes and then peels himself off the kitchen floor and onto his knees. His chest is red from rubbing against the tiles, his cock is standing straight out from his body, and Louis’s come is dripping down his inner thighs. 

“Is that blue vibrator in this kitchen, Harry?” 

Harry swivels around, finding Louis sitting on the floor and leaning against one of the cabinets, his jeans pulled back on with the flies done up and looking nothing like he’d just fucked his boyfriend in the middle of the kitchen. Harry just stares at him, so Louis repeats the question. 

Slowly nodding, Harry glances over at the refrigerator where he’d stashed the vibrator. Fruit bowl and refrigerator—two things Louis didn’t look in often. Louis raises his eyebrows, so Harry scrambles to his feet and gets the toy. 

“It’s cold,” Louis comments with a wicked smile when Harry hands it to him. He uses his free hand to reach for Harry. “Come here.” 

Harry lets Louis pull him down, settling in between his legs so his bare back is against Louis’s clothed chest. Louis hooks his feet around Harry’s ankles and spreads his legs, forcing Harry’s to spread his sticky thighs apart as well. Then he grabs Harry by the chin and tips his head back until it rests on Louis’s shoulder, making him feel completely exposed and vulnerable. 

“Harry, Harry, Harry.” 

Harry’s heartbeat is pounding so loudly in his ears that he almost doesn’t hear Louis’s voice. He digs his fingers into the other boy’s thighs, straining against the hand holding his chin. 

“You really thought you had this whole scene figured out, didn’t you?” Louis continues, sliding his hand down from Harry’s chin to his throat. Harry stops struggling immediately, unwilling to choke himself. “You’d give me tea, get me to sit down. Tie me down to the chair, ride me and not let me come.” 

Harry lets out a little noise, shifting anxiously in Louis’s hold, but Louis keeps talking. 

“Did you use tape to tie me up hoping I’d escape? Did you want me to just throw you down and have my way with you?” 

Harry’s cock throbs at that. He makes another noncommittal sound, but when Louis’s hand tightens threateningly, he shakes his head. “N-no,” he mumbles. “I thought it’d hold you.” 

Louis hums in his ear, moving his hand down from Harry’s throat, brushing over a nipple and his bellybutton before finding Harry’s erection. “What had you been planning on doing next?” he asks, dancing his fingers along Harry’s shaft. 

Harry whines, arching his back and keeping his head on Louis’s shoulder even though he’s not holding it there anymore. “Using the vibrator,” he whispers. “Making you watch.” 

“I see,” Louis says, spreading Harry’s legs a little wider. He places the toy at Harry’s entrance, and Harry jumps at the cold. Why had he thought putting it in the fridge was a good idea? 

“Please,” Harry begs, not even sure what he’s begging for as Louis teases his hole with the tip of the vibrator. He feels like every one of his nerves is one fire, ignited by Louis’s body, burning from the boy’s attention. He doesn’t ever want the feeling to go away. 

Louis shushes him, finally starting to slide the toy inside Harry’s body, slick with lube and come. It’s not too big, as Harry noted when he’d used it for the photo earlier, but it feels good since he’s sensitive from just having been fucked, and the cold makes his muscles jump and spasm. 

Harry hears the click of the button at the base of the toy, and then it’s buzzing to life inside him, making him squeeze Louis’s thighs harder and dig his heels into the kitchen floor. Louis’s other hand starts stroking his cock, fucking him with the vibrator at the same time. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” Louis asks, kissing Harry’s damp cheek and temple. He knows exactly what pace to stroke Harry at to keep him from tipping over the edge, to keep him squirming and whining without release. Through the haze of pleasure, Harry distantly wonders what he’s going to have to do to get an orgasm. 

“Why were you sending me pictures tonight, Harry?”

Louis’s lips are right next to his ear, and the words seem to slide into Harry’s brain like syrup, thick and sweet. He whimpers, slowly realizing that Louis must be planning to edge him until he answers questions. He’s been hard since he fingered himself when Louis was on his way home; how much longer can he possibly last? 

“You know how risky it is to send photos like that,” Louis’s voice continues. He changes the angle of the vibrator, and Harry’s hips immediately jack up, breath catching in his throat as Louis expertly hits his spot. 

“I know,” Harry chokes out, whining when Louis forces his legs even farther apart. 

“And you knew I was out with people, and you knew I was coming home late.” 

Harry peels his eyes open, glancing down at himself. He immediately wishes he hadn’t, because the sight of Louis’s hands working him over in tandem is almost too much. The vibrator has gotten Louis’s come everywhere now, on Louis’s fingers and the floor and Harry’s thighs, and his cock is purpling in the other boy’s grip. 

“Please,” Harry begs, pushing back against Louis’s chest. “ _Please_ make me come, please.” 

“I will,” Louis promises. Harry lets out a relieved breath. “But not until you tell me what’s going on.” 

Harry sucks that breath right back in. “W-what do you mean?” Harry asks shakily. 

Louis thrusts the vibrator inside him and lets go, making Harry clench around it to keep it from slipping out. He takes the base of Harry’s erection in one hand and then places his other hand over the head, rubbing cruel circles with his palm over Harry’s slit. Harry turns his face into Louis’s neck and lets out a muffled cry, his whole body shuddering with the sensation. 

“Harry,” Louis says in a gentle singsong voice. “Love, what’s going on in that head? Why have you been getting upset very time I go out?” 

Harry must be leaving bruises on Louis’s thighs, he’s gripping them so hard, but Louis won’t stop teasing the head of his cock, and Harry feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t come soon. His muscles spasm particularly hard, and the vibrator suddenly slips out of him, clattering onto the kitchen floor. 

Louis quickly scoops it up, and Harry tries to prepare for it to go back inside him, but Louis just hums a little and starts running the buzzing toy up and down Harry’s shaft. 

“Please!” Harry sobs, knocking his head back against the cabinet. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have sent the pictures!” 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Louis murmurs, holding the vibrator against the little V on the underside of Harry’s head until he sobs again. “The pictures were fine—better than fine—I just want to know _why_.” 

Harry bites his lip, trying to hold it in, but when Louis moves the toy over his slit the words just come tumbling out. “I wanted you to come home!” he cries. 

“Why?” Louis demands, sliding two fingers into Harry’s wrecked hole, immediately crooking them upward. Harry all but screams.

“I missed you!” he yells. “Every time you leave, I miss you! I-I hate when you’re out without me, I hate that we can’t do things together, I hate being alone here, I hate feeling jealous, I hate it, all of it!” 

Louis freezes, his fingers stilling inside Harry’s body, the buzz of the vibrator and Harry’s labored breathing the only sounds in the kitchen. But then he quickly switches his fingers out for the toy, thrusting it back inside Harry and grabbing hold of his cock. Every muscle in Harry’s body tenses, a scream caught in his throat as he immediately starts coming. 

Harry’s quite sure he is ascending to another dimension when his orgasm tears through him, stars sparkling in front of his eyes as he comes all over himself. It feels so good it almost hurts, and Louis calmly works him through it, fucking the vibrator in and out and squeezing his cock for every last drop. When Harry starts sobbing from sensitivity, Louis eases the toy out and lets the younger boy’s body just melt on top of him. 

It takes a long time for Harry’s breathing and heart rate to come back down to normal. Louis holds him close, kissing his hair and whispering sweet things that Harry hears but doesn’t really process. He feels like he’s deep underwater, and Louis’s calling to him from the shore, but his limbs are too heavy to swim toward the surface. 

“Harry… Harry,” Louis says gently, over and over again, trying to penetrate Harry’s brain. “Harry, love, come on.” 

Harry’s eyes finally flutter open, and he immediately peers up at Louis’s face. There’s concern etched into his features, making lines on his forehead that Harry likes a lot less than the laugh lines around his eyes. He reaches up to rub them away. 

“Oh, thank god,” Louis breathes, laughing with relief when Harry’s fingers massage his forehead. “Thought I’d killed you there.” 

Harry huffs out a laugh, slowly sitting up with Louis’s help. His torso is covered in his own come, and Louis’s is splattered between his thighs and on the floor, and they’re both sweaty and sore. He wants a hot bath with bubbles and candles more than anything. 

“We have to talk about this,” Louis murmurs as they both struggle to their feet. He hugs Harry’s naked body to him, effectively ruining his own shirt. When he feels Harry tense up, he adds, “But not now.” 

Harry’s not sure when Louis became the talk-about-feelings person in their relationship, but he’s too tired to think on it much. “Bath?” he asks hopefully. 

“Sure, babe.” Louis rubs his back. “I love you more than anything. You know that, right?” 

Harry picks his head up off of Louis’s shoulder and presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Yes,” he says. “I do.”


	8. Hiatus

I am so sorry everyone, but I am putting this story on hiatus until further notice. I just can't write about their current events knowing it leads up to Zayn's departure. Thank you everyone who's read this, who's left kudos, and especially to those of you who leave me comments on every chapter. You keep me writing, and I can't thank you enough. 

I will probably write a one-shot here and there, and I hope to pick this story back up eventually, but I am just gutted by this news and can't bear to write about it.


	9. Sincere in Singapore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis feels torn in between his boyfriend and his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so that hiatus didn't last as long as I thought it would. If you follow me on tumblr (if you don't, you should!), you might've seen that I came to the conclusion that writing about Zayn might help me feel better about the whole situation with him. That said, this chapter and the following ones reveal a lot about what I feel and think happened with Zayn and the band. I understand not everyone will agree, so please just treat this as the work of fiction that it is. 
> 
> I hope reading about him might help you feel better about the situation as well, but I also recognize it might be hard for some, so don't read it if it's still too sensitive a topic for you.
> 
> Also, fair warning, this chapter has no sex. Gasp!

**Tuesday, March 10—Kallang, Singapore  
****- _Louis_ -**  

As a “precaution,” according to management, Harry had flown to Singapore yesterday. So, so used to this game by now, neither Louis nor Harry had bothered asking for an explanation, but with Harry already gone from London, Louis had felt comfortable enough to go to a club in Leeds last night. Being seen up there before the next round of auditions for the TV show he’s judging, at a hot spot for college kids, had been important to generate some buzz. 

He feels hung over as all hell on the flight to Singapore today, and it’s hard to get any decent sleep when his mind keeps picking over everything Harry had said that night on their kitchen floor.

_“I missed you! Every time you leave, I miss you! I hate when you’re out without me, I hate that we can’t do things together, I hate being alone here, I hate feeling jealous, I hate it, all of it!”_

By the time he lands, he has drunk enough water (and maybe a few beers) on the plane to be feeling better, and he’s shepherded through the airport and into a waiting car. As they begin the drive to the hotel, he lights up a cigarette and turns his phone back on.

Immediately, texts and emails start pouring in, the little red number over the app icons getting higher and higher. He ignores everything to first text his mum to let her know he’s landed, but then he’s distracted by a new group text with an unknown number and Harry.

_There will be articles out today on your breakups. Do not talk about them with anyone and DO NOT tweet about them. We’ll have more info soon._

Louis chokes on his next inhale, and Alberto thumps him on the back a little harder than necessary. Louis shoots him a look—the last thing he needs right now is a smoking lecture—and chucks the butt out the window. He reads the message over a few times, trying to understand. 

Articles? He pulls up the Google News search and types in his own name. The very first link is an article about him breaking up with Eleanor, followed by a handful of more links to lesser publications reporting on the same thing. His stomach turns over on itself, and he considers asks the driver to pull over. 

“All right, Lou?” Alberto asks, picking up on his unease.

Louis nods, pushing his fringe out of his eyes as he searches Harry’s name next. The number of articles on Harry is unsurprisingly greater than on Louis, but apparently Nadine has officially dumped Harry (Louis will be able to snicker about that later, but not now) over long distance difficulties. He doesn’t read any of the articles now; the headlines are more than enough. 

He sends Harry a quick _Wtf ???_ in their own message. 

His stomach still feels queasy, his heart is pounding, and his hand holding the phone is trembling, so he quickly drops the phone in his lap and sits on both his hands. What the hell is this all about? He knows that management and PR are working together on their coming out sometime this year, but… Suddenly things seem to be moving so fast. Couldn’t they have given them a little warning about these articles? 

His phone buzzes against his leg.

_Nadine dumped me :( heartbroken x_

Louis finally breaks into a smile at Harry’s text, and before he can stop it, he’s full on laughing in the backseat of the car. Alberto looks at him like he’s crazy, and Louis just shakes his head and shrugs. 

\- - - - - - - - - -

His phone buzzes with congratulatory texts from close friends and family on the breakup the entire time it takes him to get to Harry’s hotel suite. He’s not quite sure how to handle them, so he just sends back the emoji with x’s for eyes.

Harry is in the shower when Louis says good-bye to Alberto and opens Harry’s suite with a keycard. Louis pokes his head in the bathroom door to loudly announce himself, nearly making Harry jump out his skin in the process.

“Thought you might need a bit of cheering up!” he continues as Harry stands under the water clutching his heart. “After getting dumped by your true love and all that.” 

Harry tries to glare at him, but the effect is lessened by the halo of shampoo bubbles around his head. “Heard you got dumped too, you wanker,” he shoots back, suppressing a giggle. 

“Oh no,” Louis corrects him, as seriously as he can manage. “El and I broke up because of the distance. It was too hard to be apart so long, but I can’t just up and quit touring, y’know? So it was a mutual thing—an ‘inside source’ said so.”

Harry hums his assent, tipping his head back under the spray to rinse out his hair. “Show some sensitivity, some of us are in mourning.”

Louis snorts. “Which is why you and I are hitting the town tonight! With Zayn as our wingman. Got to find you and me some new ladies.”

Harry’s sudden silence makes Louis’s stomach drop. Quickly calling out something about leaving Harry to finish having a cry in the shower alone, he exits the bathroom before either of them can say something that could lead to a full out row.

Louis sprawls out on the couch in the suite’s living room, hanging his legs over one of the arms and pulling out his phone to text Zayn. There’s an uncomfortable buzz of anxiety under his skin now, though, and even as he’s agreeing to meet Zayn at the lifts at midnight, he’s not sure he’s doing the right thing. 

Amidst all the struggles between him and Harry and their hidden relationship and fake girlfriends and forced closeting, they’ve also been trying hard to keep Zayn happy. And it’s no easy feat. Louis has become his unofficial clubbing buddy, taking the Bradford boy out to get him drunk and find him a girl to keep his bed warm for one night—anything that might help him stay positive and less homesick. 

As much as four and a half years sounds like a short time, it’s also been the craziest, busiest, most demanding four and a half years any of them could’ve imagined. Louis isn’t surprised that Zayn, the most introverted of all them, is starting to fray at the edges. The pressure of touring the world while constantly being watched, photographed, reported on, and speculated about seems to eat at Zayn more than he can handle—especially his relationship with Perrie. But Louis is determined to try his fucking hardest to keep one of his best friends happy and their band afloat, which apparently means getting Zayn drunk enough to forget all the prying eyes. He and Perrie have an agreement about sleeping with other people while on tour, and it’s their relationship to do with what they want (who is Louis to judge? He and Harry tie each other up, for Christ’s sake), but he still feels a little weird about sending Alberto to pull girls from the crowds for Zayn. 

He’s just sending Zayn a text to tell him he’s still working on convincing Harry to go out with them when Harry emerges from the bathroom, squeezing his curls with a towel. Louis watches as the younger boy goes over to his dresser, which he apparently already folded all his clothes into even though they’ll probably only be in this hotel for one night, and pull out a pair of striped pajama pants and a ratty white t-shirt. 

“Probably not the best outfit for a club, mate,” Louis calls out, making Harry freeze while pulling on a pair of briefs. 

“Not going,” Harry mumbles, staring determinedly down at the floor while stepping into the pajama bottoms.

Louis sighs, swiveling his legs off the arm of the couch and standing up. Before Harry can put on the t-shirt, Louis walks over and wraps his arms around him from behind, rubbing his soft stomach and pressing his cheek against his warm, damp shoulder blade. “Please,” he tries. “I want you to come.” 

Harry stiffens. “We won’t even be able to sit together,” he says. 

Louis noses over Harry’s spine, breathing in the unfamiliar smell of the hotel’s soap. “Zayn’s going, and his cousin, and maybe even Liam. It won’t just be the two of us, we’ll have a group, so we’ll be able to sit together.” 

Harry pulls away abruptly, yanking the t-shirt on over his head. “Just go be with Zayn,” he sighs. 

“Harry.” Louis tugs at his own hair, feeling like he’s being split right down the middle. “I’m not choosing Zayn over you, but you know he’s having a hard time.”

“Yeah? Well, so am I,” Harry snaps, pushing past Louis and heading for the kitchen. 

Louis only hesitates a few moments before following him, the buzz of anxiety now a painful prickle under his skin. Harry is standing in front of the open fridge just staring at its contents when Louis comes up behind him again. “Harry,” he tries. 

Harry whips around, his green eyes swimming with tears and his lower lip trembling. “I’m sorry!” he moans, pressing the heels of his hands to his cheeks. “I know you’re trying to help Zayn, I know you are, I don’t know why I’m acting like this!” 

Trying not to show his surprise at Harry’s sudden turn of emotion, Louis just shushes him and leads him over to the living room. He sits down on the couch, back against the armrest, and pulls Harry down in between his legs. Harry folds his lanky limbs into a tight ball, burying his face in Louis’s chest. 

“Everything’s fine,” Louis whispers, rubbing Harry’s back as Harry tries to hold back his tears. “You’re okay, I’m here, baby.” 

“You can’t always be,” Harry says, his voice thick and muffled against Louis’s shirt.

“Can’t always be what?” Louis asks, confused.

Harry’s fingers dig into his sides. “Here. You can’t always be here.”

Louis moves his hand up from Harry’s back to his hair, wrapping a ringlet around his thumb. “No. That’s right, I can’t.”

Harry rolls over so his back is against Louis’s front, settling his head right on Louis’s sternum. He clears his throat and wipes his face, trying to keep himself together. “You should go out with Zayn,” he says, picking up Louis’s arm and tracing his arrow tattoo with a fingertip. “He needs you more than I do.”

Louis knows it’s useless to ask Harry to come with them again, and now he absolutely doesn’t feel comfortable enough to leave Harry in the suite alone. He kisses the top of the boy’s head, nuzzling his hair. “No, he doesn’t,” he murmurs. “Bangkok has the better clubs, anyway. Tonight I want to stay with you.” 

Harry chews his lower lip, tipping his head back to gaze up at Louis’s face. “No—”

“I made up my mind,” Louis cuts him off. “It’s okay.”

Harry gives him a quick, upside-down kiss before snuggling in closer, and Louis doesn’t fail to notice that one of Harry’s hands is clenched around the hem of his shirt like he physically needs to make sure Louis doesn’t go anywhere. “Thank you,” Harry whispers. “I’m sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

They stay like that for a while, Harry drifting in and out of sleep on top of him and Louis only moving to dig his phone out of his pocket to text Zayn. Louis keeps trying to think of a way to open up a discussion with Harry that won’t scare him into silence, opening and closing his mouth like a fish while Harry dozes. They haven’t talked at all about Harry’s confession on the kitchen floor the other night, and now the boy’s had another little outburst. It _needs_ to be discussed.

“Gemma will want to go out,” Harry suddenly says, making Louis jump. “Bangkok has good clubs?”

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Louis says carefully. He’d completely forgotten that Gemma had flown over to be with Harry for a few days. “I think we’re heading over there right after tomorrow night’s show.”

Harry nods, the back of his head rubbing against Louis’s stomach. “I think so,” he agrees, his voice slow and sleepy.

“You want to go out with Gemma?” Louis asks. The next question slips out before he can bite it back. “Why not me?”

Harry takes in a huge breath, his chest expanding with it, before letting out an equally huge sigh. “It’s… It’s not that I don’t want to go out with you,” he whispers, chewing on his lip again.

“Then what is it?” Louis demands, his patience starting to wear thin.

Harry fidgets a little, twisting Louis’s shirt in his hand. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he mumbles.

“Try,” Louis says, cringing at the harshness of his own voice. “Please,” he adds.

“I just, you know, get lonely,” Harry says, his tone awkwardly light and casual.

“Harry, please,” Louis snaps. “I’m not going to spank you or edge you to get you to talk this time. You need to just _talk to me_. I need to understand what you’re feeling.”

Harry’s eyes shine with tears again, but Louis doesn’t regret what he said. “ _I_ don’t understand what I’m feeling,” Harry moans. 

“Okay,” Louis sighs. He needs to come at this from a different angle. “How about this. When I told you in the bathroom before that I wanted us to go out with Zayn, what went through your head?” 

Harry’s lip is dark red from him gnawing at it. “Um,” he whispers, avoiding Louis’s eye. “I was thinking about how…how we would have to put on another one of our little, you know, ‘performances’ all night. Keep someone between us at all times, not talk to each other too much, that sort of thing.”

Louis nods, kissing Harry’s temple. “I know. I hate doing all that shit, too,” he agrees. “But Harry… We can’t just hide out in our hotel rooms every night.” 

“Why not?” Harry asks, finally lifting his gaze to look at Louis. Louis is struck by how young Harry looks, his green eyes huge and glassy and hopeful; Louis himself has never felt older. “We’re…we’re free in here.”

Louis feels his chest seize up, the air freezing in his lungs. “That’s not—we can’t,” he stammers, lost for words. 

Harry blinks, and a tear falls loose, and Louis lifts a hand to thumb it away before it can roll down his cheek. “Today was a big day, love,” he says, changing topics instead of addressing what Harry had said. “They broke us up with our girlfriends. That’s a one huge step closer to—”

“To what?” Harry interjects. “To _what_? To being allowed to stand next to each other on stage again? To a different fake girlfriend? It never fucking ends!” 

“Hey, hey,” Louis murmurs, rubbing Harry’s shoulders to try and keep him calm. This is not how he anticipated this conversation going down. “It _is_ going to end. If nothing else, the contract is ending soon.” 

Harry nods, sniffling and rubbing at his bloodshot eyes. “We have to pretend so much when we’re One Direction,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to do it when we’re just Harry and Louis, too.” 

Louis’s chest aches again, and he wraps his arms around Harry and pulls him as close as possible. He just wants to cut himself open and hide Harry inside and keep him safe and protected forever. The boy is only barely twenty-one, Louis has to remind himself; too young for these kinds of feelings.

He waits a few minutes before speaking again, giving Harry some time to calm down. “Harry, I love you so much,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “And I can’t wait until the day when we don’t have to pretend anymore. But we can’t just hide away until then.”

Harry just sighs against Louis’s chest. “I’m trying to build a public image now,” Louis continues. “It’s important to me, for the future and everything. I have to go out and be seen and start making a name for myself.”

Harry nods his head a little. “I know,” he murmurs. “I-I want you to.”

“Or else when we come out I’ll just be ‘that cute one with the cheekbones on Harry Styles’ arm,’” he teases, nudging Harry’s shoulder until the younger boy cracks a smile. 

“Who says you’re the cute one?” Harry teases right back, reaching up to pinch those aforementioned cheekbones. 

Louis nips at his fingers. “Oh, everyone,” he assures him. Their sweet banter is interrupted, though, by his own loudly growling stomach.

“Have you eaten?” Harry asks, immediately slipping back into his usual caretaker role.

Louis shakes his head. “Not since before the flight over. You want to order dinner?”

Harry sits up straight, stretching his arms and wiping off any remaining tear tracks from his face. “We’re only here for one night,” he starts, and Louis rolls his eyes. “Can we _please_ try some of the local food?”

“I’m sure they have a KFC, though,” Louis begs, giving Harry his best pouty face and blinking his long lashes.

“No, no, no,” Harry laughs. “That look won’t work on me. Come on, it’s Singapore, they have amazing food, babe. You can’t eat fried chicken for every meal!”

“Yes, I can,” Louis insists. “I’ll text Alberto.”

“Oh no you won’t!” Harry cries, snatching Louis’s phone from his hand and sprinting for the bathroom. By the time Louis’s gotten to his feet, Harry’s already locked himself inside.

“Harry, no!” he wails, pounding on the bathroom door. “You can’t do this to me!”

“This website says chicken rice is the national dish of Singapore!” Harry shouts. “Chicken, Lou, see?”

“It’s not the same!” Louis whines. He’s intentionally putting on a big show to keep Harry distracted and in a good mood. “Harold, come out with my phone this instant, or I swear I will walk to the nearest KFC right now!”

Much to his surprise, Harry does open the door, handing Louis back his phone and kissing him on the cheek. “I know you’d never actually _walk_ anywhere, babe,” he teases. “Alberto is gonna talk to the hotel kitchen about making us a big sampler of all the best local dishes. Doesn’t that sound good?” 

Louis pouts again, even going so far as to stomp his feet a little. “Can’t we just sample all the best KFC dishes?”

He follows Harry over to the dresser, where the younger boy is swapping out his pajama bottoms for Nike shorts. “I’m gonna go down to the gym and run a bit,” Harry explains to Louis’s blank look. “Sweat out some of this anxiety. Text me when the food gets here, okay?”

Louis huffs in response, but he nods too. Harry leaves a quick kiss on his mouth before letting himself out the door, where there’s already a bodyguard waiting to accompany him to the gym, despite the fact that it’s the middle of the night. They’re all used to Harry’s midnight workouts by now. 

Louis looks at the messages Harry sent to Alberto on his phone, and then he Googles traditional Singaporean cuisine. It all looks much more like the stuff Harry likes—boiled meats and vegetables and an alarming amount of seafood. There are a few deep-fried things, but then if he’s going to eat those, why can’t he just eat KFC?

_Alberto_

_Don’t listen to Harry_

_KFC !!!_

Alberto texts him back that he’s already down in the kitchen watching them prepare the food, and can Louis please just go to one country and not eat fried chicken, but Louis won’t hear it. He threatens to just pay KFC whatever it takes to deliver him a bucket right to his suite, and unfortunately for Alberto, that threat must be taken seriously because it means a stranger going to Louis’s room alone. Louis sends him back a bunch of chicken leg emojis followed by the kissy smiley with a tiny red heart. Alberto sends him three knife emojis. Louis loves him.

\- - - - - - - - - -

Once Louis has everything prepared, he texts Harry to come back.

Harry arrives a few minutes later, red-faced and still a little breathless, his white t-shirt almost transparent with sweat. Louis can see all of his dark tattoos through the fabric, and it distracts him from his master plan for a second.

The spacious dining room table in their suite is set for two, with ten white plates with silver warming covers on top lined down the middle. Louis is already seated, and he waits for Harry to take the seat across from him.

“Did they say what everything is?” Harry asks, pulling his sweaty curls up into a bun as he sits down, eying the covered plates.

“Um,” Louis says, panicking a little. He quickly reaches and takes the lid off the plate closest to them. “I know this one is the chicken rice you were talking about before.”

“Mm, looks good,” Harry says, reaching for the serving spoon and helping himself to the rice, chicken, and side of sliced cucumber. He picks up one of the dipping sauces and pours a little onto his plate before handing the spoon back to Louis. “Didn’t think the chicken was fried in the picture I saw,” he muses, picking up a knife to cut off a piece.

Louis has to work very hard to keep the smile off his face as he serves himself a little and watches Harry. He almost drops his scoop of rice right onto the table instead of his plate when he sees Harry chewing the chicken thoughtfully.

“How is it?” he asks pleasantly, picking the skin off a piece of cucumber.

“Good,” Harry says after he’s swallowed, cutting off another piece. “It’s really good, it almost tastes like—”

Harry’s drops his knife and fork abruptly, picking up a piece of chicken and firing it at Louis’s head. “ _Is this KFC_?!” he yells, standing up so fast his chair falls over behind him.

Louis erupts into laughter, clutching his stomach and laughing so hard he tumbles sideways onto the floor. Harry comes around the table and jumps on top of him, and Louis thinks the younger boy might strangle him, but he just jabs his fingers into Louis’s ribs and tickles him mercilessly.

“I can’t believe you tricked me!” Harry cries, but he’s laughing too. Louis wriggles underneath him, gasping for air as Harry’s fingers dance up and down his sides.

“Stop!” he pleads between giggles. “Ah, I’m sorry, stop!”

Harry eventually stops, giving Louis’s nipple a sharp tweak for good measure before climbing off of him. It takes Louis a few minutes to catch his breath and sit up, still laughing softly. He pulls himself to his feet and drops back into the chair, cheeks flushed and hair sticking up in every direction.

Harry is busy taking the lids off the remaining plates, checking to see if anymore fast food has been sneaked in and shooting Louis a glare every few seconds. Louis reaches over and grabs a very lively-looking fish head out of a curry dish, pinching its cheeks and holding it in Harry’s direction.

“Don’t be mad at your boyfriend,” he says, making his voice high and squeezing the fish so its mouth moves. “He loves you very much.”

Harry’s mouth flattens into a line as he struggles not to laugh. He grabs the other fish head out of the dish. “My boyfriend is a dickhead,” he says in an equally ridiculous high voice.

Louis snorts at Harry’s mistake. “Your boyfriend?” he asks the fish in Harry’s hand. “I was hoping you were single, because _my_ boyfriend has no sense of humor.” He turns the fish head in his own hand so he’s looking in the eye. “Do _you_ have a boyfriend?” He moves his hand so the fish shakes its head. 

Harry looks his fish in the eye as well. “Both our boyfriends are dickheads,” he grumbles before flinging the fish in Louis’s direction. 

Louis lets out a very undignified shriek as the fish head bounces off the edge of the table and into his lap. He quickly scoops it off his thigh, but it leaves a smear of orange curry sauce on the fabric of his grey joggers. Lifting it up with his other hand, he holds both fish heads so they’re looking at each other. 

“That guy over there can’t take a joke,” he says in his high voice, jerking the fish head in Harry’s direction.

“I know, right?” he says in as a low a voice as he can manage for the other fish. “Which sucks, because his boyfriend is hilarious.”

Harry huffs out a laugh, and Louis shoots him a smile. “They should kiss, like this,” Louis says in the high voice before pressing the fish’s faces together and making obscene kissing noises.

“Oh my god, if I let you eat the rest of the fried chicken, will you shut up?” Harry finally asks, his long fingers over his mouth as though he can physically stop the laughter from coming out. 

Louis grins, throwing the fish back onto their dish and wiping his hands on a napkin. “I hid another bucket in the microwave,” he announces as he picks all the remaining fried chicken off of the rice dish, leaving the rice, cucumber, and dipping sauces behind.

“Unbelievable,” Harry mutters, shaking his head with a chuckle and reaching for another dish. “You didn’t touch any of the rest of these, right?”

Louis lifts up his right hand. “Swear,” he says around a mouthful of chicken. “Everything else is true, local, Singaporean delicacy. Fish heads and all.”

Louis finishes that chicken and half of the hidden bucket while Harry picks over the enormous spread, trying a little bit of everything until they’re both full to bursting. They wash up for bed, Harry taking another shower to scrub off the sweat from the gym, and Louis changes out of his stained joggers into a fresh pair. They both collapse into bed, ready to fall into a food coma together.

Louis wriggles over closer to Harry, wrapping all his limbs around the boy from behind and kissing him noisily by his ear. “Love you,” he chirps. 

Harry turns his head, biting on Louis’s lower lip and then soothing the hurt with a kiss. “Love you, too,” he says, “You absolute menace.”

Louis smiles in the dark, yanking the duvet over them and snuggling in. He’s glad he managed to make Harry laugh after forcing Harry to talk about his feelings and making him cry. Even though it was awful, he does think they made a little headway in figuring out what Harry’s been struggling with. He presses another kiss to Harry’s skin, gently on the back of his neck this time, and when he hears Harry let out a pleasant little sigh, he knows everything is okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I almost forgot. THANK YOU for the comments you left on my hiatus notice. They were so loving and so kind, and they really made a difficult day better. A million times, thank you.


	10. Breathless in Bangkok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis finds Harry in the middle of a panic attack, and Louis remembers what helped him feel better when their roles were reversed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took longer than usual! I had a big interview for a Real Job this week (but fear not—it went poorly, so I'll still have plenty of time for writing). Thanks again for your wonderful comments, they mean everything!

**Friday, March 13—Bangkok, Thailand  
** **- _Harry -_**

As promised, Harry takes Gemma out clubbing in Bangkok. 

He lets himself back into his suite at around one in the morning, ears ringing in the sudden silence. Louis had been right when he said the clubs in Bangkok are good, Harry thinks as he turns on a few lamps and starts taking off his jewelry so he can get in the shower. Harry’s confident that he showed Gemma a good time; he just wishes that they all could’ve stayed together instead of splitting up into the Harry and Gemma group, the Louis and Zayn group, and the Liam and Sophia group to go to club hop. Harry’s not even sure where Niall ended up. 

His rings, bracelets, and necklaces in neat little piles on the bedside table, Harry kicks off his boots and heads into the bathroom. They’ve been in Thailand a few days already, having headed over right after the show in Singapore, so his and Louis’s toiletries are already spread out on the counter and in the shower. He picks up Louis’s shave cream and idly twirls it between his fingers, popping the cap to breathe in the familiar scent. 

Harry doesn’t know if Louis is still out somewhere or if he’s back at the hotel, but he doesn’t want to bother him with texts and calls to find out. Sighing, he puts the cream back down and turns on the shower, waiting for it to warm up before stepping in. The hot water pounds against his chest, washing away the smell of sweat and cigarettes from the club, and he hangs his head so the spray plasters his curls down over his eyes. 

He has Gemma here with him, and he’s still sleeping next to Louis every night. There’s absolutely no logical reason for him to feel so lonely all the time, but it’s like this deep ache has settled behind his ribcage and taken up roots. He keeps finding himself counting down the days until their two-month break in April with increasing anxiety, dreading the day he has to go to Los Angeles to start work on the album and Louis goes back to Doncaster. 

Grabbing his special all-natural and sulfate-free shampoo, Harry pours a generous amount into his palm and lathers it up. He takes the times to massage it into his hair, rubbing his scalp with his fingertips like he can physically calm his brain down that way. His thoughts wander to Zayn, since Louis is most likely still with him. On top of all his worries about himself and his relationship, Harry also has Zayn constantly in the back of his mind—everyone does, really. They’re all trying to put on a strong, united front for the fans and the media, making sure no one suspects a thing and the first leg of their tour goes off without a hitch, but Zayn is still cracking around the edges. If Harry’s honest with himself, he is too. 

Everything is starting to feel like a façade. Obviously, he’s gotten used to hiding his relationship with Louis; they’ve been doing it for years now. But now, they’re hiding the fact that one of their members is struggling with the superstar lifestyle and that the future of the band is hanging by a thread. 

Harry feels a jolt of pure panic run through his body at that thought, adrenaline burning his veins and making his heart hammer. He rinses the suds out of his hair, trying to distract himself, but his breaths keep coming too short and his heartbeat too fast, his stomach tying up in knots. Reaching for the shower knob, he turns the temperature up hotter, but the increase in steam just feels suffocating. 

Scared and confused, Harry remembers that for Louis’s panic attacks, they used to put him in a cold shower. He turns the shower knob the other direction, the water immediately changing from boiling hot to frigid. He gasps, each droplet like a tiny needle against his skin, making his muscles cramp and shake. It’s a complete shock to his system, though, and even though he’s trembling, his heart starts to slow down. 

“Harry!” 

Harry jumps sideways, knocking bottles off the shower ledge and sending them crashing down onto the floor. Louis’s sudden yell had sent his heart right back into overdrive, but he also feels an overwhelming sense of relief, too, as the icy water continues to rain down on him. 

Louis throws open the door and comes into the bathroom, shirtless and with a pool towel slung around his waist. “Care if I join you?” he asks loudly enough for Harry to hear him over the sound of the shower. “Wash off this chlorine.” 

Harry stays quiet, just shivering under the cold spray and rubbing his own arms. He watches Louis drop the towel and peel off his swim trunks, tossing them onto the tile floor with a wet slap. He only realizes as Louis opens the shower door to join him that he should’ve turned the temperature back up. 

“Jesus!” Louis exclaims when the cold water hits him, immediately leaping back out of the shower. “Why is it so—” 

Louis goes quiet, his brow furrowing as he takes in Harry’s appearance. Harry tries to look natural but knows it’s no use; he’s standing hunched over, every muscle tense and spasming, his skin covered in goose bumps, and his lips probably blue. Usually it only takes Louis a minute or so under the cold water to calm down, and then Harry would shut the shower off for him and pull him out. Harry hadn’t realized he’d needed to pull himself out this time. 

“What’s the matter?” Louis asks, his voice low and full of concern. “Harry, how long have you been in there?” 

Harry just shakes his head minutely, wet curls stuck down to the sides of his face. His muscles feel frozen in place, and he’s not sure he could even lift an arm to turn the shower off now. Thankfully, Louis reaches in and slowly turns the knob. 

Harry sucks in a breath as the temperature gradually returns to warm. It’s a little painful against his freezing skin, the water feeling much hotter than it should, but Louis finally gets in next to him and starts rubbing his arms and back. 

“You’re alright, love, you’re alright,” Louis murmurs, working his fingers into Harry’s tense muscles and kissing along his shoulders. “Everything’s okay.” 

Harry’s not sure if it’s from the cold shower, Louis’s presence, or both, but the sudden panic has receded. After a few minutes of warm water and Louis’s massage, he feels good enough to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s smaller body, burying his face in Louis’s neck. It smells like chlorine from the hotel pool and just the tiniest hint of his shave cream. 

“Harry,” Louis whispers, kicking aside a shampoo bottle Harry had knocked over and stroking down his spine. “Were you having a panic attack?” 

“I don’t know,” Harry says, the words coming out tight and weak. 

“Did it—did it feel like it used to on _X Factor_? Before a performance?” he asks gently. 

Harry pauses before nodding his head. Now that he thinks about it, that’s exactly what it had felt like. Light-headedness, nausea, rapid heartbeat, shortness of breath, a distinct impression that the world was ending. “Thought a cold shower would help,” he admits. “Like it helps you.” 

Louis makes a soft, sympathetic sound against Harry’s hair. “I think you stayed in here a little too long,” he says. “But did it help?” 

Harry nods again, still trembling a little as he straightens up. “I think so,” he mumbles. “But I forgot how I, you know, usually pull you out after a minute or two.” 

“M’sorry,” Louis says, making Harry’s stomach immediately drop with guilt. “You could’ve called me, I was just down at the pool with Zayn and Oli and Calvin.” 

“Thought you were still at the club,” Harry says, trying to keep the disdain out of his voice as best he can. If he had known Louis had been at the hotel this whole time, maybe the panic attack wouldn’t have happened at all. 

“We came back a little while ago,” Louis says quietly, trying to catch Harry’s eye. “Did it just come out of nowhere? Were you thinking about something?” 

Harry fidgets at the questions, dragging the toes of one foot along the tile floor. He turns the temperature up a little warmer now that his skin is used to it, and then grabs a bottle of conditioner off the floor and starts working some into his hair. “Thinking about stuff,” he says with forced nonchalance. “You, Zayn. The band, the tour.” 

He glances over as he rinses out the conditioner and sees Louis chewing at his bottom lip. “I’ll stop,” Louis says suddenly. “Going out every night with Zayn. I’ll stop.” 

“What? No,” Harry says, his hair sticking up in every direction from the conditioner. “You can’t do that.” 

Louis throws his arms out in exasperation, eyes wide. “Then _what_ , Harry? What do you want me to do?” He sighs and lowers his voice. “It’s clearly upsetting you, so I’ll stop doing it.” 

Harry doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just closes his mouth and rinses out his hair while he gathers his thoughts. “You have to keep hanging out with him,” he mumbles eventually. “He doesn’t like going out with any of us as much as he likes going out with you.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Louis says, moving a little closer to Harry under the spray. 

“It _does_ matter,” Harry cuts in before Louis can continue. He stares down very seriously at Louis’s eyes, the lashes dark and thick with water, making the blue seem even brighter. “He doesn’t…enjoy what we do anymore. He’s not happy on stage like the rest of us are. But clubbing with you makes him happy.” Harry pauses and swallows down the nervous lump growing in his throat. “I think you’re the only thing keeping him here anymore,” he adds hoarsely. 

Louis cringes and shakes his head like the words physically hurt him. “That’s not true,” he says, but his voice rises like a question. 

“You can’t stop taking him out at night,” Harry says firmly. “You can’t.” 

“Then what do I do?” Louis cries, even more exasperated than before. “What’s happening with _us_? I know you’re upset when we’re apart, but I know you don’t want to go out with me and Zayn because then we have to put on the whole bull shit act, and I understand that, but… Harry, I _just_ don’t know what to do.” 

Harry’s not sure if Louis’s eyes are filled with tears or if it’s just shower water. Guilt gnaws at the corners of his stomach, and he shifts his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. “I—” he starts. 

“I mean, I come home tonight,” Louis says, cutting him off in that same pained, defeated tone, “And you’re standing in a freezing cold shower, practically turning blue, having a panic attack. In Singapore, you started crying when I tried to go out. Back home, you sent me dirty pictures trying to lure me home. And even before that, when I tied you to the bed and left you alone, you colored out!” 

It sounds even worse than Harry had realized when Louis strings it all together like that. “But—” he tries. 

“ _And now_ ,” Louis continues, talking right over him, “You’re telling me, I should just ignore all that and keep taking Zayn out every night? You’re seriously asking me to sacrifice our relationship for the good of the band? Oh, that’s fucking rich, Harry.”

Harry frowns, opening his mouth to spit something back just as bitter, but Louis cuts him off for a third time.

“You’re _everything_ to me,” Louis practically shouts. He thrusts out both his arms towards Harry. “You’re inked all over my body! You’ll still be a part of me long after One Direction is gone. I care a lot about this band, but I care about you more.” He rubs some of the water droplets scattered over his dagger tattoo. “Have I really not dproved that to you? Do you really think I’ll go out to the club and, what, not be faithful to you?” 

“No, no, that’s not it,” Harry says quickly. He reaches out a tentative hand to touch Louis’s dagger tattoo, too. 

“You asked me,” he says, his voice shaky like he’s holding back tears, sounding a little manic, “When I came back home and you tied me to the chair, you asked me if anyone in the club made me feel like you did.”

Harry shakes his head, starting to shiver again even though the shower is still warm. He rubs the pads of his fingers, wrinkly from the water, down Louis’s forearm until he intertwines their hands. “I didn’t mean it like, that I thought you’d be unfaithful,” he tries to explain. “I meant… That it was better to be home with me than at a club.” 

Louis’s body sags like his muscles are suddenly too tired to hold him up anymore, so Harry wraps him up in his arms and holds him close. He feels absolutely terrible, starting to come to grips with how insane he’s been acting lately; how much he’s been jerking Louis around emotionally and mentally. The band is in a tumultuous enough time with Zayn without the added pressure of him fucking up his and Louis’s relationship. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers into Louis’s damp hair. “I… I’ve been so thick. You’re everything to me, too.” 

He can feel Louis’s chest expand with a deep breath in his arms. “Let’s just…get out of this shower,” he mumbles into Harry’s shoulder. “I think even my dick is pruney.” 

Harry huffs out a small laugh. “Your dick is perfect as always. You want to wash up quick first?” 

Louis nods, and they pull apart. Harry scrubs down his own skin with body wash while Louis washes his hair, and then he takes a few minutes to scrub down Louis’s skin, too. They shut the water off and dry themselves with soft white hotel towels, Harry rinsing Louis’s swim trunks out in the sink and hanging them over the shower rod to dry. 

Harry quickly puts some lotion on his face, arms, and legs while Louis leaves the bathroom. When Harry joins him in the bedroom, Louis’s already under the covers with his phone balanced on his chest, squinting at the screen. Harry slides in next to him, naked, and immediately sees that Louis didn’t put on any sleep clothes either. 

“Anything interesting?” Harry asks, cuddling up to Louis’s side and indicating his phone with a nod of his head. 

“Nah.” Louis exits the Twitter app, locks the screen, and tosses the phone onto the bedside table. “Same old shit.” 

“But a different day,” Harry says to the tune of _Midnight Memories_. Louis rolls his eyes as exaggeratedly as he can. 

They both fall quiet, Louis wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulder and Harry pillowing his head on Louis’s chest. The bed feels a little less strange now that they’ve slept in it for a few nights; Harry doesn’t let them change the sheets daily unless absolutely necessary, so the linens smell less like economy detergent and a bit more like a mix of both of them. He kisses the “78” tattooed just beneath Louis’s collarbone, trailing his fingers through the soft hair on Louis’s lower stomach. 

“I was thinking,” Louis says, breaking the silence. 

Harry tips his head up to look at him, finding Louis staring right back. “Mm?” 

“Uh, well, back when I was having a hard time and whatnot,” Louis starts, licking his lips as he contemplates his words. He breaks eye contact with Harry momentarily. “It really made me feel better when you would, you know, collar me.” 

Harry frowns, remembering the weeks before Christmas when Louis had been waking up in the middle of the night with panic attacks, prompting Harry to start dominating in the bedroom to help Louis calm down. He had purchased a special black leather collar for Louis to get him in the right mindset. As far as he knows, it’s still sitting in their bag of toys. 

“Yeah, I remember,” Harry says softly. 

Louis pauses for a second. “Do you think, maybe…it might make you feel better too?” 

“What?” 

“Wearing a collar.” 

Harry sucks in a sharp breath. Louis’s suggestion shouldn’t have taken him by surprise, he had clearly been leading up to it, but hearing the actual words still feels like a shock. Harry subconsciously raises a hand to touch his neck, stroking his fingers over his pulse point. 

Louis’s hand suddenly joins his, sliding underneath Harry’s fingers and very gently cupping his throat. “It feels good,” he promises, rubbing circles with his thumb. “Like…a constant reassurance that you’re mine.” 

Harry takes a deep breath, the sensation of air moving into his lungs even more acute with Louis’s hand around his neck. Deep in the back of his mind, he knows that reassurance is what he needs right now more than anything—reassurance of their relationship, its stability, Louis’s promise. 

“Will you try it?” Louis murmurs. 

There’s a note of desperate hope in Louis’s voice that Harry’s not sure he’s ever heard before. It makes his chest ache. He’s pushed Louis way too far emotionally these past few weeks, fucking with his head instead of figuring out his own feelings. And right now, he would do anything to make it up to him. 

Clamping his teeth down nervously on his bottom lip, Harry nods his head. 

Louis’s chest lowers as he lets out a massive breath. “Okay. Let me go get it.” 

He slides out from underneath Harry and gets out of bed, walking naked across the suite to the closet. Harry can hear him unzipping their Tom Ford bag, and then a few seconds later, Louis returns with the collar in his hand. 

It doesn’t look as intimidating now as it had in Harry’s mind. It’s just plain, unadorned black leather with a simple silver buckle. It almost looks like a miniature belt, he tells himself. He wears belts all the time. 

Louis kneels on top of the bed and glances at him for permission. Propping himself up on his elbows, Harry nods and closes his eyes. 

“So good, babe,” Louis murmurs, moving forward and wrapping the leather around Harry’s neck. Harry holds his breath as Louis’s fingers work to secure the buckle, making sure it’s tight enough to be present but not too tight to choke him. 

When Louis sits back on his heels, Harry lets his breath out in shaky little pants. His whole body is tingling, a buzz of electricity in his skin emanating from the collar around his throat and shooting straight down to his groin. He blindly reaches out a hand toward Louis, which Louis grabs with both of his own. 

“You’re alright,” Louis says, kissing Harry’s knuckles and then ducking his head in to kiss along the edges of the collar. “Fuck, this looks so good on you, you have no idea.” 

Harry does have a vague idea, since he remembers feeling the exact same way when he saw the collar on Louis. He gasps when he feels one of Louis’s hands suddenly wrap around his cock, realizing that being collared had gotten him pretty hard. 

Louis gives him a few firm pulls, kissing his mouth as Harry whimpers. “Open your eyes, Harry, it’s okay,” he whispers, swiping along Harry’s bottom lip with his tongue. 

Harry’s eyes flutter open on command, seeking out Louis’s face as the older boy pulls back so they can look at each other. Louis gives him a small smile, sliding his leg over Harry’s hips to straddle him. Harry can feel their erections bump together, Louis just as hard as he is. 

“I’m okay,” Harry whispers back, as much to reassure himself as to reassure Louis. 

Louis’s smile deepens, the skin beside his eyes crinkling softly. “Feels good, right?” he asks. “What do you want to do now?”

Harry lets his upper half fall back against the pillows, Louis perched on the tops of his thighs. He knows Louis is still in control even though he’s asking Harry to choose the next step; this is uncharted territory for Harry, and Louis just wants to make sure he doesn’t push his boundaries too far. 

Harry hadn’t planned on them having sex tonight, if he’s honest, having thought they’d both be too tired from clubbing. But his head is practically spinning with arousal, the collaring unexpectedly turning him on so, so much. He just wants to submit to Louis completely, let the boy take him completely apart and trust him to put him back together again after. 

“Fuck me,” Harry groans, reaching for Louis’s waist. “Want you to fuck me.” 

Louis’s eyes light up and then narrow seriously, his hands wrapping around Harry’s wrists and forcing them down onto the mattress. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you?” he asks, leaning forward so his mouth is next to Harry’s ear. He bites down on the lobe until Harry gasps. “Then you better open yourself up for me, babe.” 

Harry stays frozen in place for a few seconds after Louis climbs off him, only startled out of his immobility by a bottle of lube dropping onto his chest. Louis settles down near the foot of the bed, spitting into his palm and stroking his cock as he waits for Harry to ready himself. 

Slicking up his fingers, Harry plants his feet on the bed and spreads them wide. He can hear Louis make a little sound of approval as his hole comes into view, and Harry rubs the pads of his slippery fingers over the puckered muscle. 

“Come on, don’t take all night,” Louis teases, and Harry immediately pushes his index finger inside himself. 

It feels good, but he doesn’t take the time to enjoy it. This is just a means to an end, and he wants to get through it as quickly as possible so Louis can fuck him. Wriggling and twisting his finger, he pulls at his rim until it’s stretched enough to take his middle finger as well. 

Louis hums happily, grabbing the bottle of lube and drizzling some over his cock to wet his strokes. Harry bites down on his lip in concentration as he scissors his two fingers apart, loosening up his hole to fit his ring finger in, too. 

“We still haven’t tried using those beads together,” Louis comments casually, watching Harry’s three fingers slide in and out. “Never got that fourth one inside you. Think you get a fourth finger in there now?” 

Harry lets out a weak groan, feeling sweat starting to build on his forehead. They usually don’t go past three fingers to prep for sex, so why is Louis dragging this out? 

Steeling himself, Harry nods his head and begins pushing his pinky in alongside the other three fingers. It’s a very tight fit, even as he holds his fingers together as close as possible, and his hole burns as his littlest finger slides inside. 

Louis crawls over between Harry’s legs to get a good look at the younger boy fucking himself on four fingers. “So hot,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss and lick along his stretched, aching rim. “Want me to fuck you now?” 

“Please,” Harry chokes out, not daring to pull his fingers out before Louis tells him to.

Louis’s mouth moves up along his taint, kissing over his balls and up his shaft, Harry’s hole clamping down around his fingers even tighter. When Louis finally straightens up, his eyes immediately go to Harry’s neck, making Harry’s face flush hot with the realization that he’d forgotten all about the collar. 

“Better get those fingers out, then,” Louis says with a wicked smile. “And turn over.” 

Harry practically rips his fingers out, gasping a little at the sting of the loss as he flips onto his stomach. Louis’s hands dig into his hips, lifting them off the mattress and nudging Harry’s thighs apart with his knees.

“Ready for me, love?” 

“Please,” Harry repeats, not bothering to try and keep the desperation out his voice. 

Louis lines up at his entrance and slowly pushes forward. Harry breathes through the initial pain, willing his muscles to stay relaxed and accept Louis into his body, and when Louis’s finally fully sheathed, he pets down Harry’s sweat-slick back before grabbing hold of his waist to pull out and slam back in. 

The force of it knocks Harry’s breath from his lungs, one of his hands shooting out to brace against the upholstered headboard. Louis sets a ruthless pace, building up speed as quickly as Harry’s body allows it, the sound of skin-on-skin filling the room. 

“Look so good with that collar around your throat,” Louis grunts, his hips slamming into Harry’s ass. “You’re fucking mine, you know that? Now everyone can see it.” 

“Yours,” Harry moans brokenly, his body jerking with the force of Louis’s thrusts, his cock swinging heavily between his legs. “Yours, all yours.” 

Louis reaches forward and tucks his fingers into the back of the collar, holding on for leverage as he pistons his hips. Harry tips his head back, the pressure against his Adam’s apple making it hard to breathe and his head immediately going fuzzy from lack of oxygen. 

“You feel so good,” Louis continues, his voice losing some of its control as his pleasure builds. “Always so tight, so ready for me. Only me.” Harry jumps as Louis suddenly spanks him hard, a rush of heat replacing the stinging pain. “Only for me, right?” 

“Yes!” Harry tries to cry out, but Louis’s hold on the collar cuts off most of his voice. Tears spring into his eyes as he struggles to breathe, Louis’s hand spanking him in the same spot. 

When Louis’s fingers finally let go of the collar, Harry’s first full breath in gives him a complete head rush, the pleasure centering between his legs. One touch to his cock, and he’s sure he would be coming. But Louis doesn’t touch him there, instead keeping a tight hold on his hips to continue fucking him hard and fast. 

“Please, please,” Harry’s begs hoarsely. “Want to come.” 

“Can you come just from me fucking you?” Louis asks, his thrusts starting to lose some of their rhythm as his body shudders. “Prove to me you’re mine?” 

Harry whimpers, dropping his head onto his forearms. Louis rubs up and down the sloping line of his spine reassuringly, ending it with another harsh spank. “Can’t,” Harry mumbles, even as he tries his hardest to focus on the pleasure of Louis’s cock in his hole and somehow get it to push him over the edge into an orgasm.

“Come on, you can do it,” Louis encourages, slowing his hips down a bit, probably to stave off his own pleasure. Harry shifts a little, trying to get Louis to better hit his prostate. “I know you can do it, show me, babe.” 

When Louis starts to pick up the pace again, he’s hitting Harry in the perfect spot. Harry’s eyes roll up behind his closed lids, little jolts of pleasure running through his body every time Louis bottoms out. He just needs that one touch, one touch and he’s there. “Please,” he whines. “I-I’m so close, _please_.” 

Louis spanks him again, right in that same spot, and Harry feels himself lurch even close to coming. Every muscle in his body is taut, his skin shining with sweat, and the pressure inside him has built up so much it almost hurts. Then suddenly, Louis’s fingers are back around his collar, and the abrupt loss of air has Harry seeing white. 

He comes all over the sheets beneath him, tremors wracking his body as he releases everything he has to give. He’s still rhythmically clenching with aftershocks even after Louis comes inside him and pulls out.

“Fucking hell,” he distantly hears Louis mutter as he collapses onto the wet sheets. Louis sits cross-legged beside him, hardly seeming to have enjoyed his own orgasm as he rubs Harry’s sweaty back. “That was so fucking hot.” 

Harry can’t quite make words yet as he lies there, waiting for his breathing to slow down. That orgasm had felt real, more real than anything in their lives right now. He’s only come untouched a few times since he and Louis started having sex a little more than four years ago, and it’s such a mind-blowing but draining experience. He’s quite sure this time might affect his stage energy for the rest of the tour. 

“Good idea,” he finally mumbles into the pillow. 

Louis’s hand stops moving on his back. “What?”

“Good idea,” he repeats, even though each word seems to require tremendous effort. “The collar.”

“Oh.” Louis lets out a nervous laugh. “Glad you think so.”

They both go quiet as Harry continues to recover, and he distantly feels Louis tracing over all the tattoos on his left arm. Mentally, Harry starts going over all their matching sets to help drop back down after that orgasm. _Ship and compass, anchor and rope, heart and arrow, ‘hi' and ‘oops,’ rose and dagger…_

He’s not sure how much time passes before he finally rolls over onto his side. Louis breathes out an immediate sigh of relief, gently pushing some of Harry’s damp hair off his forehead. “You okay? Want to clean up?”

Harry nods his head but then shakes it. “Can't move,” he groans, except he can feel the stickiness on his stomach and between his legs.

“I can just wipe you down if you want,” he suggests, which Harry quickly agrees to. “But you made a mess of these sheets.” 

“Just put a towel over the spot,” Harry suggests through a huge yawn.

Louis leaves and comes back with a damp hand towel from the bathroom, using it to scrub Harry’s skin clean and get up as much of the come leaking between his legs as he can. Then he makes Harry slide over so he can spread out a full-size, clean towel over the puddle of come Harry made on the bed. 

Louis shuts out the lights and rejoins Harry under the blankets, lying so they’re face-to-face. He tangles their legs and gently kisses his face. “You want to sleep with the collar on?” he whispers. 

Harry doesn’t hesitate before nodding, his eyes closed as he leans forward to catch Louis’s mouth in a kiss. “Never want to take it off,” he mumbles. 

Louis laughs, a touch of sadness behind the happy sound. “Alright, babe,” he says. “Wear it as long as you want. But you might want to take it off when we shower tomorrow. Unless you want to smell like sex all day.” 

Harry huffs out a breath through his nose, struggling to stay awake. “We smell good,” he insists, and Louis laughs again. 

Harry starts drifting off to sleep, but he just can’t get there without asking one last question. “Was it good for you?” he whispers. 

“What?”

“Did I make you feel good?” Harry asks instead. “Just now.”

“Of course,” Louis murmurs, his hand squeezing Harry’s hip. “Watching you let go like that feels…better than anything in the world.”

“Better than a hot cup of tea at a Rovers game with a box of Coco Puffs?”

Louis pinches his hip, laughing earnestly now. “Go to sleep, you idiot.”


	11. Protective in Phuket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens in Phuket stays in Phuket—except when it doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this chapter deals a lot with Zayn leaving and is a fictional depiction of the events that transpired. And I think it goes without saying, but the parts in italics are flashbacks to earlier in the night.

**Tuesday, March 17—Phuket, Thailand  
** **- _Louis -_**

They have four days between their show in Bangkok and their show in Hong Kong, so all five of them had decided to escape on a quick lads’ holiday on the tropical island of Phuket. As usual, Harry and Louis had booked two separate suites but stayed together in one. 

Louis returns to their shared suite well past midnight with Alberto close behind. He had been club hopping with Zayn and their little crew of friends and cousins for hours, and as the night had progressed, Louis might have started doing shots to calm his nerves. His stomach is churning, and if there’s one thing he’s learned, bottom shelf tequila from a Donny liquor store and top shelf tequila from a Thai club taste exactly the same coming back up.

Kneeling in front of the toilet would really be the cherry on top of what might prove to be one of the worst nights of their time as a band. 

He presses his knuckles to his mouth, the other hand hesitating on the doorknob. He and Harry had been experimenting with ways to keep Harry’s separation anxiety at bay while Louis goes out, trying to prepare him for their tour break in April, so before he had left with Zayn, Louis had given Harry a list of tasks to complete before he returned. 

_Harry watches Louis from the bed while Louis digs through his suitcase in search of something to wear to the clubs; there’s a surprising amount of clothes still in his suitcase despite all the laundry that’s scattered all over their suite. He extracts a wrinkled white t-shirt with a picture of a skull with long hair and sunglasses on it and holds it up to his bare chest, a towel tied around his waist._

_“Looks good,” Harry says without prompt. Louis nods and tugs the shirt on over his head, his damp hair standing up in spikes as the material drags down it._

_Harry had spent the day exploring everything eastern religion had to offer in Thailand, and Louis thinks there must be something to be said for those Buddhist temples, because Harry seems more calm and levelheaded than he has in a while. Harry had individually planned and executed the whole excursion for himself, and Louis’s proud of his boy for taking the initiative to do that; regaining that independence is massively important._

_Louis wishes he could spend a quiet night in with Harry, but this time he feels like he has no choice. Zayn’s status has become drastically worse over the last week, and this mini holiday in Phuket is supposed to be about reminding him how much fun being a part of their band really is. For Zayn, that means gathering up a crew of guys and hitting the club scene—not staying in and snuggling with a movie._

_“The other night, when I went out,” Louis says as he struggles into a pair of skin-tight black jeans, “And I had you edge yourself until I came back—that helped, right?”_

_Harry hums his assent, rolling onto his stomach on top of the crisp white duvet. During one of his many outings last week in Bangkok, Louis had instructed Harry to edge himself the entire time he was gone, and to keep Louis updated with texts throughout. Harry had done brilliantly and come explosively when Louis returned, and he had admitted the next morning that that distraction had kept him from feeling anxious._

_Louis does up his flies and straightens out his shirt. “I was thinking maybe I’d leave you a list tonight? Of things to do before I get back?”_

_Harry frowns, his chin resting on his interlocked fingers. “A list?”_

_“Yeah, like, just simple things to do to keep you busy while I’m out,” Louis explains. He finds a comb on the floor and starts working it through his hair. “And you can send me pictures when you finish them. And when I come back, I’ll make you come just like I did last time.”_

_Harry has a funny look on his face that makes Louis start to back pedal. “Just an idea, we don’t have to do it,” he says quickly._

_“No,” Harry says, shaking his head and rolling onto his side now. “I think I like it.”_

_“If you change your mind, you can just stop,” Louis adds. “I like getting your pictures while I’m out though.”_

_This confession makes Harry smile. “You do?”_

_Louis nods, tossing the comb back on the floor and going into the bathroom in search of some hair product. “It makes me feel like I’m with you even when I’m not,” he calls out, knowing that’ll make Harry happy to hear. “Except when I pop a boner in the middle of the bar.”_

_Working some gel into his hair, he listens as Harry stifles a giggle into the duvet. Louis tries to artfully muss his fringe the way Lou does for him, but it’s a futile effort, so he just bends over and shakes his head as hard as he can until his hair falls into some sort of natural mess. Straightening back up, he throws on some deodorant before heading back into the bedroom._

_“Can I make you a list then?” he asks, making sure to keep his tone gentle so Harry knows he can opt out if he wants to. He sits on the edge of the bed and rubs Harry’s shoulder through his gauzy button-up._

_Harry turns his head so he can kiss Louis’s pinky. “Yes,” he murmurs._

_Louis trails his hand along Harry’s shoulder, up his neck and into his hair. His scalp is a little rough with sweat from trekking around temples all day, but Louis scratches his fingers gently on it anyway. “Okay,” he says. “I think this’ll be good.”_

_He gets the pad of paper and pen, both branded with the hotel’s name and logo, off the bedside table and takes them over to the kitchen. Leaning over the counter, he chews on the pen cap while he thinks about what to write. It needs to be a list of mundane tasks as well as sexual ones, but since they’re in a hotel, there aren’t a whole lot of housekeeping-type things for Harry to do. He sucks on the cap between his teeth as he starts to write a few ideas down._

_After about ten minutes of scribbling and scratching out, Louis’s list reads:_

  1. _Pack up both our suitcases for Hong Kong tomorrow_
  2. _Take a bath with bubbles and candles_
  3. _Finger yourself open in the bath_
  4. _After the bath put on that green face mask_
  5. _Get in bed naked_
  6. _Put the silver plug in and your collar on_
  7. _Watch two episodes of_ Friends _on_ Netflix
  8. _Turn the plug on its lowest setting and edge yourself for fifteen minutes_
  9. _Turn off the plug and wash off the face mask_
  10. _Get back in bed, turn the plug back on, edge yourself until I get home_



_The only thing Louis’s not sure of is if the crazy green tea face mask Harry likes to use once in a while is supposed to stay on for the length of two TV episodes plus fifteen minutes of edging, but he figures it can’t do any harm. Satisfied, he brings the list back over to Harry to make sure he agrees to everything on it._

_A little nervous smile grows on Harry’s face as he reads, and finally he nods. Still clutching the paper in his hand, he gets off the bed and stands up so he can kiss Louis on the mouth._

_“Thank you,” he murmurs, lips brushing down Louis’s rough jaw._

_Louis sighs happily as Harry’s kisses his neck. Harry must be okay with this plan if he’s thanking Louis for it; he must think this will help keep him calm while Louis’s out, which is all Louis wants. It’ll be a lot easier to enjoy himself with Zayn if he doesn’t have to worry about Harry._

_He feels Harry’s lips suction against his throat as he tries to suck a bruise, and Louis forces himself to pull Harry back. “No marks,” he reminds him sadly._

_Harry gives him a little smirk as he drops down on his knees, lifting the bottom hem of Louis’s t-shirt up with the hand that isn’t still holding the list. “How about here?” he asks, placing a quick kiss on Louis’s exposed hip._

_Louis rolls his eyes, but how could he possibly say no? “You’re gonna make me hard right before I have to leave,” he says instead of an answer, which Harry takes as a yes._

_He kisses Louis’s hipbone a few more times before nipping it sharply, causing Louis to gasp. Harry’s soft lips then press around the bitten spot, and he sucks hard, pulling Louis’s skin in between his teeth to make sure it bruises. Louis tries to hold still, and Harry drops the list onto the floor so he can grab Louis’s ass to pull him closer._

_After a few moments, Harry sits back to examine his work. The spot just beside where Louis’s hipbone protrudes the most is shining with spit and dark red, little purple dots already starting to form. Harry gives it one last kiss before pulling Louis’s shirt back down and smoothing it out. He pretends not to notice the bulge in Louis’s jeans._

_“There,” he announces proudly as he scoops up the list and stands._

_Louis kisses the corner of Harry’s mouth and runs his fingers through the boy’s long hair. “Thank you, babe,” he whispers, feeling the bruised spot sting as the waistband of his jeans rubs over it. The sensation does nothing to help his semi-hard cock._

_His phone buzzes on the bedside table with a text from Zayn telling him everyone’s ready to go. Harry has that funny look back on his face as Louis pulls on his shoes, so Louis goes back over to him once more before he leaves._

_“Finish that list before I get back,” he instructs. “I want a picture of every step. Keep your face and tattoos out of the more explicit ones, though, okay?”_

_Harry nods, his facial expression determined now that he’s been reminded of his assignment. He digs his thumb into the hickey on Louis’s hip before trailing his fingers over the flies of Louis’s jeans. “I’ll take care of this when you get back,” he promises with a mischievous smile._

_“Damn right you will,” Louis teases, giving him one last quick kiss before Alberto’s knock on the door interrupted them._  

Harry had followed the list perfectly, sending Louis pictures after every step—one of two perfectly packed suitcases, one of Harry’s toes sticking out of a bubble bath with candles around the edge, one of Harry’s fingers slick with lube, one of Harry cross-eyed with his tongue out and a mint green mask on his face, one of Harry’s bare ass in their bed, one of a silver plug peeking out from between Harry’s legs, one of a laptop sitting on a pillow with _Friends_ playing on the screen, one of Harry’s hand wrapped around his erection, one of Harry cross-eyed with his tongue out and no face mask on anymore but a collar around his throat, and another one of Harry jerking himself off. (The last one had come with a lot of sad-faced emojis.)

So now Louis has a phone full of photos, a head full of worries, a stomach full of tequila, and a boyfriend probably ass-deep in subspace who needs to be brought up carefully. He turns back to Alberto, who’s giving him one of those concerned yet calculating looks that makes Louis want to dig himself a hole and hide in it. 

“All set then,” Louis announces a little too loudly. “Thanks for tonight.”

“See you tomorrow,” Alberto says, staring at him a few more seconds until Louis extracts his keycard and lets himself in the door. 

“Babe?” Louis calls out once the heavy door thuds shut, feeling like Alberto’s eyes are still on him. “Where are you?”

He hears a rustle of blankets and a weak moan from the bedroom, so he toes off his sneakers and heads in there. It takes him a minute to adjust to the dark room, but soon he can make out Harry’s body sprawled on top of the bed. His legs are spread, his left arm stretched out to the side holding a handful of the duvet and his right hand moving slowly up and down his erection. Louis hears the soft buzz of the plug inside Harry, and judging by the slick noises of his strokes, he guesses Harry either used some lube or is leaking like a sieve. 

“Hi,” Louis murmurs as he joins Harry on the bed, crawling carefully between his legs. Up close, he sees that Harry’s hand is trembling with every movement, his entire body is coated in a light sheen of sweat, and his stomach muscles are quivering. He seems much more wrecked this time than he had the night Louis made him just edge himself the whole time; something about completing the list must’ve really pushed Harry into his headspace. How is he supposed to tell Harry what happened tonight when he’s like this? 

“Can I come now?” Harry begs, his hoarse, strained voice interrupting Louis’s thoughts.

Louis shushes him, leaning over to kiss Harry’s neck along the edge of the black leather collar secured there. When he rubs one of Harry’s thighs, he can feel the muscles jumping beneath his palm as Harry continues stroking himself with the plug vibrating deep in his hole. “Pretty sure you promised me you’d take care of something when I got back,” he reminds him, keeping his tone light and gentle.

Harry whimpers, so Louis physically removes Harry’s hand from his own cock and places it over the flies of Louis’s jeans instead. He’s soft, too distracted by what had happened at the club to even be turned on by the sight of Harry edging himself in their hotel bed, and Harry just grapples at the button like he can rip it open.

“Come on, sit up,” Louis says, coaxing Harry off his back so he can better focus on the task at hand. Harry sways a little when he sits, clearly having been lying down for a long time with most of the blood in his body in his dick, but then he starts properly undoing Louis’s jeans. 

“The plug?” Harry manages to plead, but Louis just shakes his head. He tugs his shirt off while Harry yanks his jeans and briefs down around his knees, and Louis kicks them off the rest of the way. He doesn’t instruct Harry on how to get him off, so Harry just grabs onto his base and sucks the head into his mouth without another word.

_“That one,” Zayn says, nodding his head over toward two girls standing by the wall just outside of the VIP area._

_Louis takes a sip of his drink and frowns over the rim of the glass, trying to see which girl Zayn’s talking about. “The blonde or the…blonder?” he asks._

_“Blonde,” Zayn declares. “With the tattoos.” He motions Alberto over and whispers something in his ear while Louis finishes the rest of his drink and grabs a shot off a waitress as she walks by. The tequila goes down smoothly, and the night starts to blur a bit more._

Louis chews on his bottom lip while Harry sucks, licks, and mouths at his limp cock in his hand. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why can’t he get it up? Usually just a passing glance from Harry has him adjusting himself in his pants; now he’s actually in Harry’s mouth, and he’s soft as can be. 

Harry pulls off and spits on his cock, spreading it down his shaft with his hand and giving Louis a quizzical look. “Feels good,” Louis lies, guilt creeping up on him at Harry’s confusion. “Keep going.”

He looks down his torso to watch Harry, thinking maybe the sight of Harry’s gorgeous lips around him will help remind his body what it’s supposed to do. The love bite Harry had made earlier on his hip has darkened considerably over a few hours, and Harry gives it a couple feather light kisses before reattaching his mouth to Louis’s cock. 

_“Zayn, stop! You can’t!”_

_“I don’t fucking care, Louis,” Zayn hisses back. “I want to hold her damn hand.”_

_“Zayn,” Zayn’s cousin Jawaad pleads with him. “You’re not thinking straight.”_

_“I am!” Zayn snaps, yanking the blonde girl in by her arm so he can hold her around the waist. She stays quiet for the most part, just watching the interaction._

_“If we’re going to walk to another club, you need to let go of her fucking hand,” Louis says, staring Zayn right in the eye. Usually he wouldn’t talk to Zayn like this, but he has a heavy dose of alcohol courage in his veins, and Zayn is acting like a complete twat. “Or just have her meet you back at the hotel. But you can’t hold her like that in public, people will see, they’ll take pictures, you_ know _that.”_

_“I don’t fucking care!” Zayn repeats, using his free hand to dig out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. He sticks a cigarette between his lips and speaks around it. “I’m done with this bull shit. All the fans and their fucking pictures. I can’t take it anymore.”_

_Louis grabs the lighter out of his hand before Zayn can light up. They’re still inside the club, even though they’re in a back hallway behind the VIP area and mostly out of sight. “Then just go home,” he says, not sure why he’s still trying to reason with the boy. “But don’t get caught in another cheating scandal, for fuck’s sake.”_

_“Let’s go back to your hotel,” the girl pipes in. Louis wants to hate her, but at least she’s talking sense._

_“Listen to her,” Jawaad pleads. Oli and Calvin hang awkwardly off to the side, unwilling to get involved in the argument. “Go back.”_

_“No,” Zayn says. “Let’s go.”_

“What’s wrong?” Harry murmurs.

“Hm?” Louis glances down where Harry is holding his dick in his hand like a broken toy, looking up at Louis; the glazed look in his eyes has faded considerably. If Louis doesn’t do something quickly, Harry is going to come completely out of that headspace too soon, and Louis’s not sure what that’ll lead to.

Giving up on getting hard and trying to act fast, Louis pushes Harry’s shoulders flat on the bed and climbs onto his hips. “Where’s the lube?” he mutters, feeling around in the duvet for the little bottle. 

Harry fishes it out from under a pillow and hands it to him, and Louis coats his fingers and reaches between his own legs. He jams a finger inside himself, trying to open himself up as quickly as he can. Harry watches him with a dumbstruck look on his face, his cock twitching against his belly, fully hard as it should be.

Once Louis’s gotten three fingers in his hole with relative comfort, he slicks up Harry’s cock and hovers over him. They both hold their breath as Louis grabs him by the base and starts sinking down. 

“Fuck, you’re big,” Louis grunts out, trying to go slow. His thigh muscles burn and tremble, Harry’s cock stretching him wide as he takes him inch by inch. Harry’s fingers wrap around his hips to steady him, which isn’t exactly a submissive thing to do, but Louis will gladly take the help right now.

“Never thought you were gonna ride me,” Harry says with awe.

“Neither did I,” Louis grumbles as he finally sits down, fully impaled on Harry’s cock. He breathes through the pain, giving himself a few minutes to adjust before prying Harry’s hands off his hips and directing them toward the headboard. “Keep those up there. No touching.” 

_They walk quickly through the crowded streets, and Louis tries to act natural. There’s no way people aren’t going to take pictures of Zayn Malik holding some-strange-girl-who-is-definitely-not-Perrie-Edwards’ hand, and the last thing Louis wants is to make it look like he and Zayn are feuding at the same time. So he laughs alongside Calvin and Oli and tries to pretend this isn’t happening._

_Everyone has a fucking cell phone, though. They try to keep their pace fast, and it’s fairly dark outside, the street lit only by the neon signs of the stores and clubs, but Louis has been doing this long enough to know that it just takes one decent photo. One photo becomes one tweet, one tweet becomes one news article, and one news article becomes a scandal._

Harry’s hips jerk beneath him, and Louis realizes he still isn’t moving. “Stay still,” he orders, even though Harry is already making a Herculean effort of that. Louis plants his hands on Harry’s chest and carefully lifts his ass up.

Harry lets out a strangled moan as Louis finally starts riding him, his movements picking up a rhythm as his muscles adjust to the intrusion. Louis can tell by the strained look on Harry’s face that the boy is already holding back his orgasm, but Louis isn’t planning on dragging this out any longer than necessary. Harry had edged himself long enough, Louis’s own cock still isn’t hard, and as long as half their party comes Louis will count it as a victory.

“Can’t,” Harry chokes out as Louis bounces on top of him, nails digging into his chest. “Can’t… Gonna…”

“Go ahead,” Louis says, swiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand before redoubling his efforts to get Harry off. He clenches around him each time he pulls up and rolls both his nipples between his thumbs and forefingers until Harry’s hips are jacking off the bed of their own accord. “Go ahead, Haz. Come.”

Harry’s eyes roll back and his knuckles turn white around the headboard as his orgasm hits. 

_“I’m taking her back to the hotel,” Zayn insists, looking for another fight._

_“Fine,” Louis says, quickly swallowing down two shots. The burn in his throat helps distract him from the unsettled feeling in his stomach. “Doesn’t matter anymore anyway. Damage is done.”_

_“Let them talk,” Zayn spits. His accent is thicker than ever, a combination of drunkenness and anger. If Louis hadn’t practically been his brother for the past four and a half years, he wouldn’t have been able to understand him. “Let them take pictures. That’s all they want from us. All they ever want. Pictures and stories and bull shit.”_

_“Cheers,” Louis mumbles, looking around for another drink._

“Louis,” Harry murmurs. “Are you going to, um…?” 

Louis blinks, realizing he’s still seated on Harry’s softening cock. He lifts off and sits back, immediately regretting letting Harry come inside him, because now there’s a whole different level of clean up involved. Sighing, he clenches to try and keep the mess inside him as he collapses beside Harry.

“Are you alright?”

Louis mentally kicks himself. He’s supposed to be asking Harry that kind of question, not the other way around. He opens his mouth to answer, but his stomach suddenly heaves, and all that comes out is awful retching sound.

Scrambling out of bed, Louis rushes into the bathroom to collapse in front of the toilet. He dry heaves a few more times before the buckets of tequila he drank find their way back up.

It takes a few minutes for the heaving to subside. Spitting and groaning, he reaches to flush the toilet, but Harry’s hand beats him to it. “Lou,” he murmurs, rubbing Louis’s lower back. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Louis moans, curling into the fetal position on the cold bathroom tiles. No matter how many years he spends on the road, every time he gets sick a small part of him still wishes he were home with his mum. His inner thighs are sticky with Harry’s come—something Jay should certainly never have to witness—and the gross feeling makes another wave of nausea roll over him.

Harry sits down and carefully lifts Louis’s head onto his lap. He rhythmically strokes his sweaty fringe off his head with one hand, the other reaching to grab a towel off the hook to cover Louis’s naked body with. “What’s the matter?” Harry asks, fully aware that something is wrong besides the obvious vomiting.

Louis chews on his thumbnail, still nauseous and trying to decide whether to tell Harry what happened or not. If everything goes the way he thinks it will, Harry will know sooner or later anyway. “It’s Zayn,” Louis says, his voice rough from throwing up. “He…”

Harry doesn’t press, just keeps smoothing over Louis’s hair and waiting for him to speak. Louis takes a deep breath, swallowing a few times to keep the nausea down before continuing. “I think he’s done.”

“I… I don’t understand,” Harry says. “Done with what?”

Louis turns his face into Harry’s bare thigh, sighing against his skin. “Just… He’s done. He doesn’t care anymore.” He bites back a sob as his eyes prickle with tears, pressing his face harder into Harry’s leg. “He held some girl in front of everyone. Wouldn’t listen to us.”

Harry’s hand freezes in Louis’s hair. He knows the implications of that simple action just as well as Louis does. Louis’s next sob turns into a dry heave, and Harry helps him sit up so he can vomit once more.

“I’m sorry,” Louis groans when he’s done, resting his arm on the seat of the toilet and his head on his arm. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you, I’m sorry.”

“Shh, it’s fine.” Harry rubs his back again as Louis starts shivering, the towel having fallen onto the floor. “Can you get back in bed? Or at least put some clothes on?”

“The plug,” Louis says. “I forgot to take it out.”

“I took it out, it’s fine,” Harry assures him.

“The collar—”

“It’s off, it’s okay.”  Harry shushes him again, taking Louis by the armpits and gently hoisting him to his feet. He steadies him and leads him over to the sink. “Do your teeth, and I’ll get you some clothes, okay?”

“Okay.” Louis watches Harry leave the bathroom in the mirror before scrubbing his hands over his face. Could this night get any worse? Riding Harry had managed to temporarily sober him up, but when tequila wants to see the light of day again, nothing will stop it.

He feels startlingly sober now as he wets his toothbrush and squeezes a line of paste on the bristles. It’s hard not to stare at his reflection as he brushes; his eyes are bloodshot from vomiting, lashes thick and dark with tears, and his skin is sickeningly gaunt. He can’t remember the last time he looked this bad. Even Harry’s hickey on his hip has lost its sexiness; it just looks like a nasty bruise.

As he’s rinsing with mouthwash, Harry comes back into the bathroom. He’s wearing a Packers t-shirt and grey boxer shorts now, and he deposits a selection of clothes for Louis onto the counter. When Louis goes to grab the pair briefs, though, Harry stops him.

“Let me clean you up first,” he says, wetting a flannel under the tap and kneeling behind Louis.

Louis can’t help the pitiful sound he makes as Harry washes off his inner thighs and up in between his cheeks. He holds still, white-knuckling the edge of the sink and trying to keep down any remaining liquor in his stomach. How had this night done such a one-eighty, completely reversing their roles?

“I’m sorry,” he says again, because he truly is. This was supposed to be about helping Harry with his separation anxiety; Louis was supposed to stay in control.

Harry finishes wiping him down and plants a loud kiss on his bare ass cheek. “Shut up,” he says fondly, holding the briefs so Louis can step into them and then pulling them up his legs. “Things happen.”

“They sure do,” Louis mutters as Harry helps him into a pair of his softest joggers.

“T-shirt or hoodie?” Harry asks, and Louis goes with the t-shirt. Once he’s under the covers next to Harry’s body, he’ll be plenty warm.

“How are you so calm right now?” Louis blurts out, the words spilling before he can think them through. Harry just shrugs, tugging the t-shirt over Louis’s head.

“It’s just puke,” he explains.

Louis groans, reflexively clutching his stomach. “Not about _that_.”

Harry thumbs over Louis’s lower lip like he’s contemplating kissing it, and then he shakes his head. “No use worrying about what’s going to happen,” he murmurs. “We’ll just…deal with it as it comes.”

“You should spend more time in temples,” Louis grumbles, nipping at Harry’s thumb before pulling away. Confident he’s not going to be sick anymore, he heads back to the bedroom and gives Harry some time in the bathroom.

When Harry joins him in bed, the questions Louis had expected start coming. “Did people take pictures?”

Louis can’t help but laugh, burrowing deeper under the blankets and hooking both his legs over Harry’s. “Don’t they always?” he asks bitterly. “I’m sure they’re already all over Twitter.”

Harry glances over Louis’s shoulder toward the bedside table where his phone undoubtedly is but then seems to decide better of checking it. “Did he take her back here? Did he have her sign anything?”

“Yeah, she’s here,” Louis says around a yawn. Now that his stomach has calmed down and he’s snuggled in bed with Harry, the exhaustion is hitting him full force. He burrows his head under Harry's chin and speaks against his neck. “I have no idea if she signed anything, but it doesn’t even matter. If people got pictures of him holding her hand, that’s all they need.”

“Why would he do that?” Harry wonders sadly, kissing the top of Louis’s head. “He was so upset last time all the articles said he cheated on Perrie. Why would he set himself up for that again?” 

Louis sighs, his breath tickling Harry’s throat. “Because he wants out,” he says simply. “He wants out. He’s done.”


	12. Misjudged in Manila

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Louis struggle to get on the same page after Zayn goes on stress leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is probably such a let-down after making you all wait SO LONG for it. I promise the next one will be extra smutty to make up for it.
> 
> Also, I'm participating in the [1D Write Now fic exchange](http://1dwritenow.tumblr.com/). It is a charitable fic exchange to raise money for the Lalela Project. You can get all the details through the link, but basically, you donate money (the amount of money determines the length of the fic), and I will fill any prompt you want. If you want me to write it, you have to specify in the application! I'd really, really love to help this cause and see some requests come in, so please give if you can.

**Saturday, March 21—Manila, Philippines  
** **- _Harry_  -** 

In the backseat of the car on the way from the stadium to the hotel, the toxic mixture of mental exhaustion and physical restlessness hit Harry hard. The past few days have been some of the most exhausting he can remember, and they just finished their first show as a foursome without Zayn. All the leftover adrenaline is still buzzing in his blood, but he knows he’s going to crash when it wears off. 

But he’s just itching to get his hands on Louis. The older boy had started a water bottle fight with Liam on stage, since it was by far one of the hottest concerts they’d ever played, and the sight of his white vest, see-through and stuck to his torso, is burned into Harry’s brain. He’s glad his yellow shirt had been long enough to cover his groin when he’d started to get hard in front of tens of thousands of fans. 

Since Zayn left three days ago, Harry and Louis haven’t given each other so much as a quick handjob in the shower. Nights consist of just clinging to each other under the covers and hoping to wake up to the news that he’s coming back. Admittedly, Harry feels a little guilty for thinking about sex now; it somehow feels insulting to Zayn to end this grieving period of abstinence so soon. 

He shifts a little on the black leather seat, adjusting himself in his pants. Clearly his body has moved on from the sadness, even if his head hasn’t.

Desperate for a distraction, he pulls out his phone as the car merges into traffic. He has been limiting the amount of time he spends online as much as possible, since it’s so hard to avoid all the talk about Zayn and the future of One Direction, but he also doesn’t want to miss something big and be blindsided by it. So he warily opens up Twitter.

“ _EXCLUSIVE: STAR SPARKS HEARTACHE  
Now Louis dumps girlfriends as he snogs pool girl  
NEW 1D LOVE RIFT  
__Read the full story and see the amazing pics here at 7am or in_ The Sun _on Sunday”_

Harry almost chokes on the air he’s breathing. He reads the screen shot of _The Sun’s_ website over and over again, repeatedly zooming in on the picture of Louis and Eleanor. The little snippet of the article says that an onlooker had seen Louis and Zayn at the pool in Bangkok (the night with the girl that set Zayn over the edge, Harry realizes), and that Louis had kissed a girl in a black bikini for fifteen minutes after getting “carried away with partying.” 

Harry’s heart pounds in his chest, and he drops his head back against the seat to take a deep breath. Why is he even getting all worked up about this? They have articles about fake girls like that written about them all the time. But that picture of Louis and Eleanor is going to be printed on the front cover of millions of copies of _The Sun_ all across the UK.

That’s when he realizes the article mentions “amazing pics,” and he just knows that picture of Louis and Eleanor is going to pale in comparison to whatever image they’re holding onto for the big Sunday morning reveal. 

Exiting out of Twitter, he opens his text with Louis. 

Harry gnaws on his lip, trying to think of the best way to ask Louis if he knew about the article or not without upsetting him. What pictures could they possibly have? Did Louis know they were being taken?

__

Louis takes longer to answer this time, making Harry’s stomach tie up in knots as he waits. Just by the hesitation, he knows the answer.

__

Harry just sends him back the thumbs-up emoji and a blue heart. He’s tempted to open Twitter back up and see what the fans are saying about the article preview, but before he can give in, he locks the phone and tosses it onto the seat next to him. It’s just not worth the added anxiety. 

However… He grabs his phone back and opens up Tumblr instead. It doesn’t take much scrolling to find photos of Louis in his wet shirt on stage. The gifs are especially great; Harry can watch Louis’s abs catch on the transparent fabric and his thighs and ass move in skin-tight jeans. He has to press the heel of his hand against the zipper of own jeans just to relieve a little of the pressure.

The gifs of Louis are nothing compared to the actual Louis he finds waiting for him in their hotel suite. “Harry, I—” Louis immediately says, but Harry silences him with a vicious kiss. 

“Don’t care,” he pants between kisses, lips tingling from the force he’d went at Louis’s mouth with. “Fuck _The Sun_. Just want you.”

Harry hears Louis’s little gasp when he grabs a handful of the boy’s feathery hair at the crown of his head and holds him in place to kiss him again. He works his tongue in and out of Louis’s mouth, keeping complete control until Louis whimpers softly. 

“Fuck, Harry,” he breathes when they break apart, tentatively licking his own lips. “What’s gotten into you?”

Harry takes Louis’s hand and places it at the front of his jeans so Louis can feel his hardness. “I’ve been like that since Liam got you all wet on stage,” he says, his voice low and rough. “Can’t believe you thought it was okay to show yourself off in front of everyone like that.” 

“Ohh,” Louis murmurs, squeezing Harry through the fabric and catching on quick. “I’m sorry, I, um…” 

Harry holds in a groan as Louis’s hand starts running up the length of him over his jeans. “You’re sorry, huh? Going to make it up to me?”

Louis’s hand slows and then stops altogether. Assuming he must want to move this to the bed, Harry leads the way there, stripping off his clothes as he goes. When he turns around, Louis is standing motionless behind him.

“Come on, babe,” Harry murmurs, trailing his fingers up and down Louis’s clothed sides. The boy's wearing a faded grey jumper now, having changed backstage after the show. Harry’s erection prods into his hip, the tip rubbing against the soft fabric.

“Harry,” Louis groans as Harry drops to his knees in front of him.

Smirking, Harry tugs the boy’s joggers down to his knees, immediately pressing his face against the black briefs at the crease of his thigh. They’re the same briefs he’d worn on stage, and Harry inhales deeply.

Louis fidgets, chewing on his thumbnail. “We haven’t showered yet,” he mumbles, a slight whine to his voice when Harry nuzzles harder against him.

“Don’t care,” Harry says with his face firmly pressed to Louis’s covered balls. He mouths along Louis’s length, the fabric dampening under his lips and tongue, and his fingers dig into the muscle of Louis’s thighs for leverage. “You smell so good.” 

Unable to keep himself away anymore, he reaches up and slowly peels down Louis’s briefs. Expecting his erection to spring free, Harry’s disappointed to see that he’s not even half-hard yet. A funny feeling settles in his stomach when he remembers the last time they fucked—Louis hadn’t been able to get hard then either.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, sitting back on his heels and looking up at Louis.

“Nothing,” Louis says too quickly.

“Your dick says otherwise,” Harry mutters, glancing at the soft cock in front of him.

Louis sighs loudly. “I’m sorry, I’m just…not in the mood, I guess.” 

Harry suddenly feels incredibly naked, hard, and foolish. He reaches for the pair of gym shorts he’d discarded and yanks them back on, his erection tenting the front. Heat rising in his cheeks, he grabs his t-shirt and jams it back on over his head too. By the time he’s clothed, Louis has pulled his briefs and joggers back up as well.

“I’m sorry,” Louis repeats, tugging at his own fringe. “I’ll get you off, if you want?” 

Harry shakes his head, embarrassed at the very thought. “This is the second time,” he says, indicating Louis’s crotch with a jerky wave of his hand. “Is it me?”

“What? No,” Louis insists, stepping forward and putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Of course it’s not you.”

Harry pouts a little. “Then what?” he asks quietly.

Louis cups his chin and thumbs over his pouting lower lip. “Come on, Haz, we just finished our first show without Zayn,” he tries to explain. “I’m just… Everything’s a little… Fuck, I don’t know.”

Harry sighs through his nose, jerking his head back out of Louis’s grip. “Gonna go to the gym,” he mumbles, hesitating in case Louis should want to stop him.

Louis just shrugs, though, so Harry turns around and starts walking toward his suitcase. That’s when he remembers the article, and he stops short.

“Did you kiss her?” he asks, looking at Louis over his shoulder. “At the pool?”

Louis blanches. “I-I had to!” he exclaims, blinking quickly. “I didn’t have a choice. It was a two-second thing.”

“Article said it was a fifteen-minute thing,” Harry grumbles.

“Oh, because _The Sun_ is an excellent source of accurate information?” Louis snaps back. “Since fucking when?”

Harry’s mouth presses into a hard line. He tries to stay silent as he stomps over to his suitcase and digs out a pair of trainers, but as he’s lacing them up on his feet, he can’t help but ask, “Why the hell did you have to _kiss_ her?”

Louis groans, dropping down into an armchair and burying his face in his hands. “They told me it would help with the whole ‘new image’ thing,” he says. “Straight boy. Party boy. Lad’s lad. It went along with Zayn’s story. What we did—you can’t even call it a kiss—we just angled it so it looked like it. You know?” 

Harry glances over sharply, fingers fumbling over the laces. “'Straight boy?'” he repeats. “We’re not dropping that yet?” 

“Harry, please,” Louis begs, looking up at him with tired, nervous eyes. “It doesn’t mean anything!”

“It clearly means _something_ ,” Harry grumbles, straightening up, “Or else they wouldn’t be doing it.”

“When was the last time we actually understood what the fuck they were doing with us?” Louis asks exasperatedly.

Harry sighs, because Louis has a point. As parts of the One Direction ‘brand,’ they’re frequently kept in the dark about these kinds of things and treated as less than human. The uncertainty of it all, especially when they were just clueless teenagers, had been a huge part of what drove the two of them together in the first place. Through anything, at least they’d have each other. How could Harry have forgotten that?

The fight dies inside of him like a deflated balloon, all of that extra adrenaline from the concert abruptly expiring, leaving him heavy-limbed and exhausted. “I know it’s not your fault,” he mutters, hanging his head and staring at the carpet. “I’m sorry.”

After a few minutes of quiet, he walks over and stands next to the chair Louis’s sitting on, chewing the inside of his lip as he debates over whether to touch the other boy or not. Before he can decide, though, Louis reaches up and grabs his hand, using it to tug Harry down onto his lap. Harry fidgets a bit before letting his muscles go slack, drooping against Louis’s chest with a sigh.

“We’re on the same team,” Louis whispers into his ear, kissing his hair.

“I just wish you’d told me,” Harry says. He tucks his face into Louis’s neck and kicks off his trainers so they fall to the floor with soft thumps. “I hate being blindsided by stuff like that.”

“M’sorry.” Louis moves his legs underneath Harry’s weight to try to stop them from losing circulation. “It just seemed really shitty to be like, ‘Zayn’s probably leaving and I kissed a girl,’ you know?”

Harry huffs out a laugh against Louis’s skin. “Did you like it?”

“Yes, Harold. I kissed a girl and I liked it,” Louis deadpans, pinching Harry’s sides until he squeals with laughter.

“Do you think he’ll come back?” Harry asks once his laughter dies down, his voice barely a whisper.

Louis shifts again, so Harry moves his bum so it sits between Louis’s thighs instead of on them. “I don’t know,” Louis admits, his hand rhythmically stroking up and down Harry’s belly. “I really don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this.”

Harry sighs, resting his head on Louis’s collarbone and watching his hand move. Zayn had always been just a little bit closer to Louis than the rest of them, and if Louis didn’t know what the boy was feeling, no one did. “I hope his mum’s feeding him good,” Harry says with a small smile, picturing Zayn at home in Bradford with his parents and sisters.

“Ugh, I would fly there right now to eat just one serving of a Trisha Malik dinner,” Louis groans.

Harry laughs, nodding his head in agreement. “He’s probably buying his sisters everything,” he adds. “Letting Perrie take them shopping with his card.”

Louis hums, adding, “And sleeping until noon with no one bothering him.”

They both fall silent, thinking about Zayn back home with his family and hoping beyond anything that he’s happy. But also hoping that he eventually—sooner rather than later—decides to come back to them and One Direction.

Harry’s only broken out of his thoughts when Louis wiggles beneath him.

“Sorry, I’m too heavy,” he says, trying to slide off of Louis’s lap, but the older boy wraps his arms around Harry’s middle and holds him tight.

“Not too heavy,” he promises. “I’m not _that_ much smaller than you.” 

Harry can’t help but bark out a laugh, which he tries to smother into the neckline of Louis’s jumper.

Louis lets out a mock gasp of horror. “Hey!” he exclaims, tickling Harry’s sides again. “What’s so funny?!”

Harry shrieks as Louis’s fingers jab mercilessly into his stomach, and in a desperate attempt to get away, he flings himself sideways off of Louis’s lap and onto the floor. Louis wastes no time in following him down, climbing on top of him and straddling his waist.

“See?” he insists, starting to tickle him again. Harry can barely breathe, very unattractive sounds coming from his mouth as he squirms on the carpet and tries to knock Louis’s hands away. 

“Stop!” he begs between giggles, tears streaking down his temples into his hair. “You’re five-nine, you’re five-nine! Two inches smaller than me! Five-nine!”

Louis grins triumphantly like "five-nine" was the magic word, and his demonic fingers slow into gentle rubs over the bumps of Harry’s ribs. Harry is red-faced and panting when Louis leans over to kiss him. “I love you,” Louis murmurs. 

“Love you, too,” Harry says back breathlessly.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” Louis adds, sitting back on Harry’s thighs.

Harry props himself up on his elbows as he breathing regulates. “I know," he says reflexively, even though he doesn't believe it.

“I’m sorry I’ve been…” Louis glances down between his own legs. “Lacking.”

Harry quickly shakes his head. “No,” he insists. “It’s not your fault. You’ve been stressed, and I’ve been stupid.”

“You haven’t been stupid,” Louis says, sliding back so Harry can sit up fully. “Everything’s just been…screwed up. It’ll be better soon.”

Harry lets himself smile a little, but it’s more to comfort Louis than to show his own agreement. He’s not so convinced things won’t get worse first before they get better. “I know you miss him,” he murmurs. “I miss him, too.”

“Another show here tomorrow night,” Louis says like he hadn’t even heard Harry.

Harry frowns. “And two weeks until break,” he adds.

Louis sighs, and they both shift around to disentangle their limbs until they’re sitting cross-legged face-to-face. “Don’t worry about break,” he says quietly.

“I can’t help it.” Harry rubs his socked foot over Louis’s shin. “We’re gonna be apart for so long.”

“It’ll go by fast,” Louis promises, grabbing hold of Harry’s foot and massaging his thumbs into the sole until Harry lets out a content noise. “You’ll have Jeff. And we can Skype.”

Harry can’t help but smile at the thought of the last time they Skyped each other when he was in Los Angeles and Louis was in London. It had started with anal beads and ended in one of the best solo orgasms Harry’s ever had—if you could count it as solo.

He wiggles his toes in Louis’s grip. “We still haven’t fully used those beads, you know,” he reminds him. Alone, he hadn’t been able to get the fourth and final one inside himself. Louis had promised him they’d do it together.

The side of Louis’s mouth tugs up into a crooked smile. “Tell you what,” he says. “After tomorrow night’s show, we’ll get all four of those beads inside you. Okay?”

Harry straightens up, eyes wide and bright. “Really? You promise?”

Louis nods. “Promise. And I’ll be hard for it, too.”

Harry snorts, smacking a hand playfully on Louis’s knee. “How about we just focus on me,” he teases. Louis rolls his eyes.

Eventually they both stagger to their feet, stiff from sitting on the floor for so long. As Louis had reminded Harry before, they hadn’t showered after the show, so Harry rinses off while Louis does his teeth at the sink, and then they swap positions. No sense in showering together and fighting over water when they both just want to go to sleep now.

Harry gets into bed in just his gym shorts, and Louis pulls his joggers back on without pants and joins him under the covers. Harry can’t help but sneak a hand below Louis’s waistband and give his bare ass a squeeze.

“Enjoy your freedom now, Harold,” Louis warns, clenching his muscles under Harry’s fingers. “You won’t have it tomorrow night.”

A little zing of excitement runs through Harry’s veins at that promise, and he gives Louis’s plentiful bum one last pinch before withdrawing his hand and wrapping it around the boy’s waist instead. “Good night, love you,” he whispers.

Louis pulls the top sheets higher over their bodies before settling in against Harry, chest-to-chest. “Love you too, babe.”


	13. Judicious in Jakarta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Harry both try to kick things up a notch in the bedroom in different ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A MILLION APOLOGIZES. This took me forever to write. It's so hard to be inspired when they're on break—but the BBMAs helped a lot. Also, there aren't a lot of emotions that start with the letter J...

**Sunday, March 22—Jakarta, Indonesia  
** _\- Louis -_

After the second of two shows in Manila, the flight to Jakarta takes about four hours. They all fly separately, which Louis desperately tries not to get irritated about, because it’s crucial that he land in Indonesia with the world’s biggest boner for Harry. 

If he thinks about the logistics of it all—leaving their hotel in Manila, spending most of the day getting ready at the stadium, singing and running around on stage for two hours, rushing to the airport, flying to Jakarta, getting settled in a new hotel—he should feel exhausted. But they constantly run off adrenaline, and this time feels no different. He’s used to this lifestyle, and so is Harry. And he promised the boy a good night to make up for his past two pitiful performances. The last thing he wants is for Harry to think Louis’s not hot for him anymore. 

The benefit of flying in four separate planes—Louis grinds his teeth at the thought—is that he can spend most of the flight looking at photos of Harry undisturbed while Alberto, Oli, and Calvin sleep. He uses Harry’s login info for Tumblr again, but the feed is full of arguments about paparazzi photos of Eleanor and her dog, arguments about Liam covering Zayn’s face in a photo, arguments about a dark, grainy photo supposedly of Louis and Harry at the hotel pool, and arguments over the meaning behind Harry’s Instagram photo for World Water Day. How does Harry even look at all of this? Nothing is a bigger boner-killer than their fans fighting about all this bull shit, so Louis exits the Tumblr app.

Despite the many times they’ve been instructed to never take and send incriminating or naked pictures let alone save them, Louis’s message with Harry is still full of the pictures Harry had sent back home in London and the other night while completing his to-do list. Glancing back to make sure the other lads are sleeping, he opens the photo Harry had taken of his own mouth opened wide by a ring gag. 

The rush of heat to his groin is immediate, and Louis could almost jump for joy—his dick still works after all. When Harry had originally sent him this photo, Louis had been in the middle of a crowded nightclub and unable to appreciate it fully. Now, he can spend as long as he wants staring at Harry’s full, pink lips stretched open, shining with spit, the metal of the gag glinting behind his teeth. Harry had tucked one of his fingers sexily into his mouth, and Louis can’t help but look at the extra space around that finger and imagine all the other things he could fit in there. Shifting in his seat, he decides they absolutely need to utilize that particular gag tonight. 

Louis spends the rest of the flight going through the ten photos Harry had sent him in Phuket while he completed his to-do list. By the time the pilot announces they’re descending into Jakarta, he’s struggling to find a good way to tuck his erection into his briefs to keep it hidden. In the end, he just has to keep the hem of his hoodie tugged low to cover it as they land and exit the plane. 

Oli and Calvin, not quite as used to the insane lifestyle as Louis is, immediately retreat to their rooms to go back to sleep once they reach the hotel. Louis, on the other hand, is positively buzzing, unable to wait another minute to get his hands—and other parts—on Harry. He hardly gets out a proper goodbye to Alberto before he’s shoving the keycard into the door handle and letting himself inside Harry’s suite. 

Harry’s plane had landed about a half hour ahead of Louis’s, so he’s already gotten situated in their new room. It’s a gorgeous, westernized suite with light walls and dark woods. Louis spends absolutely no time appreciating it, throwing his carry-on on a random chair and calling out for Harry. 

“Bathroom!” Harry yells back.

Louis follows the sound of his voice to find the bathroom in the enormous suite. The door has been left ajar, which Louis takes as an invitation to come inside. 

“Har—” 

The words die in his throat as his eyes adjust to the lights of the dimmed crystal chandelier in the bathroom. Harry stands in the middle of the giant marble-tiled room, a circular bathtub the size of a swimming pool behind him. His hair hangs in damp curls around his face, his chin dipped just slightly towards his chest, and his dark tattoos are a stark contrast to his perfect pale skin. Louis’s eyes drag down his body, drinking in every inch. 

He sucks in a breath when his gaze lands on Harry’s cock—which is hidden away by a pair of black lace women’s underwear. They sit low on his hips beneath his laurel tattoos, fitting perfectly over the curve of his ass but stretched lewdly tight over the bulge of manhood. Harry starts to fidget in the silence, his toes pointing inward at each other and his hands clasped behind his back. 

“Is it okay?” he asks, his voice soft and gravelly. 

Louis’s mouth just opens, and no words come out. Not trusting himself to speak, he walks forward instead, coming to stand in front of Harry and run a tentative finger along the waistband of the panties. Admittedly, it’s not something he had ever thought he would like, but now that he sees it… Well, his own hard cock should answer Harry’s question. 

“Fuck,” is the only coherent thing Louis can manage to say. 

Harry smiles shyly, watching Louis’s hands where they stroke his hips and cautiously start feeling out the lace fabric. Harry’s cock is hardening steadily under Louis’s attention, and as it grows the head peeks out the top of the waistband, foreskin pulling back. 

Louis’s hands wander backward, following Harry’s hipbones as he reaches around to cup his ass. The actual fabric of the lace feels soft and expensive, but the pattern causes a unique roughness. Louis wonders what it must feel like against Harry’s erection. 

As he kneads his fingers into Harry’s backside, his fingertips brush against something hard between Harry’s cheeks. Frowning, he slips a hand underneath the panties to feel out the object, realizing with a start that Harry’s wearing a plug. 

“You—why?” he breathes. 

Harry licks his lips nervously before speaking. “Cleaned and stretched myself out in the shower before you came,” he confesses, looking down at the floor. “Wanted to be good for you.” 

Louis’s stomach flips, but he tries not to let it show on his face. He feels terrible. He’s been so shit in bed lately that Harry had felt the need to plug himself and wear _panties_ to try and spice things up. If anything, Louis is the one who should’ve been trying to go the extra mile to make it up to Harry; he’d mistakenly thought the promise of those beads was enough. 

“Babe,” he murmurs. When Harry still doesn’t look at him, Louis uses a single finger to tilt the boy’s chin up. Harry’s pupils are so dilated his eyes look black, but they finally meet Louis’s gaze. 

Harry swallows. “Bad idea?” he whispers.

Louis reaches forward and wraps Harry up in his arms, standing on tiptoe to do so. He holds him tight, probably too tight, kissing his damp hair and breathing in the smell of his shampoo. “No,” he whispers back. “You look incredible. You _are_ incredible.” 

Harry sags against him at those words, sighing into Louis’s neck. They stay like that for a few moments, just holding each other and ignoring the fact that they’re both hard. Eventually, Louis slides his hand down Harry’s spine, over his lace-covered ass to press against the base of the plug until Harry whimpers. 

“Is this the big one?” Louis asks, trying to feel how wide it is through the panties. 

Harry nods. “Those are big beads,” he says by way of explanation. 

“And what if I wanted to be the one to stretch you out, hm?” Louis teases, moving the base from side to side so the bulb of the plug rocks inside of Harry. 

“Still can!” Harry gasps through gritted teeth. 

Louis hums his agreement, moving his hand back to the front of Harry’s panties— _panties_ , for fuck’s sake—and adjusting the waistband so they sit properly again. “Hope you bought a few pairs, these ones might not survive the night,” he says, looking down at Harry’s long legs and how the little black underwear makes them look even longer. Louis’s mind runs wild with images of Harry’s body in all sorts of knickers, and he has to physically shake his head to focus again. 

Harry gives him a crooked little grin, eyes gleaming. He reaches forward to feel Louis through the material of the joggers he’d worn on the plane, and his grin grows when he finds Louis’s dick nice and hard. 

“See what you do to me?” Louis asks, rocking his hips a little as Harry’s fingers press more firmly. 

Harry shakes his head. “I could if you were naked,” he points out. 

Louis snorts. “Let’s get to bed then,” he says, forcing himself to step away from Harry’s hand and lead the way out of the bathroom, grabbing a fresh towel off the shelf 

As Louis gets their toy bag and brings it over to the bed, he considers double-checking with Harry and making sure this is something he really wants to. But, he had found Harry freshly showered, plugged and wearing women’s underwear, so really, he has his answer. Harry is in this one hundred and ten percent. 

He puts the bag down and starts getting the bed ready, ripping off the duvet and top sheet and piling pillows up to make a wedge against the headboard. He spreads the towel out flat just below the pillows. 

“Go on,” he says to Harry, who’s standing nervously next to the bed on the other side. When he goes to take his panties off, Louis stops him with a sharp, “Ah-ah! Leave those.” 

Harry climbs onto the bed and lies down on the pile of pillows, so his back is propped up and he’s almost sitting. Louis gets out two lengths of thin, soft black rope and stands beside the bed. “Knees up,” he instructs. 

Louis can see the movement in Harry’s throat when the boy swallows, but Harry complies without a word, lifting his knees up toward his chest and leaning back heavily against the pillows. Louis wraps the rope around Harry’s thigh just above his knee, securing it there and then tying it to the corner post on the wooden headboard. He repeats the action on Harry’s other side, so his legs are forced up and bent, fully exposing his lace-covered, plugged hole. Louis’s not all that skilled in knot tying, but he’s confident this will hold. 

“My good boy, look so hot like this,” he murmurs as he tries to figure out what to do with Harry’s hands now. The idea hits him suddenly, and he slides off the bed to reach back into the bag, returning with Harry’s collar. 

Harry looks pleased with Louis’s choice, and he tips his head back to bare his neck. Louis fastens the collar in place, making sure the silver D-ring is positioned at the back of Harry’s neck, before grabbing a pair of leather cuffs and securing them both onto Harry’s wrists. He threads a short chain through the D-ring on the collar before attaching it to either cuff, so Harry’s hands are forced to stay up and just slightly behind his neck, his elbows pointed forward. 

“Okay?” Louis asks. “Green?” 

Harry nods quickly. “Green.” 

Louis’s satisfied with Harry’s answer, because one glance at Harry’s hard cock tells him all he needs to know. He bends over to give the head—flushed red against Harry’s belly with the waistband of the panties digging into the shaft—a little kiss. Harry whines, his hips giving the tiniest jerk.

“Oops,” Louis mutters as he realizes there’s no way to get Harry’s panties off in one piece with the way he’s tied his legs. Well, he has always wanted to rip someone’s underwear off like a porno; he’d just never imagined it would be lacy women’s knickers on his boyfriend. “I’ll buy you three new pairs,” he promises Harry before hooking his fingers in the gaps in the lace pattern and shredding them clear off Harry’s body. 

“Hey!” Harry shouts too late, his mouth falling open as he watches Louis destroy the panties that had taken every ounce of courage he possessed to wear. (Louis _had_ warned him they might not last the night, but he’d thought they’d last a little longer than five minutes.) When he goes to tell Louis he wants _ten_ new pairs, though, Louis balls up the shredded lace and shoves it into Harry’s open mouth. 

“Shh, now,” Louis teases as Harry makes a face at the dry material on his tongue. Harry could easily spit them out of his mouth, but Louis’s confident he won’t do so without being told. 

Louis settles down on the bed, sitting on the towel that’s halfway under Harry’s body. Now that the panties are gone, he can fully see the large black plug nestled between the boy’s cheeks, and he digs his fingers under the base to feel out how big it is. As he’d guessed earlier, Harry had chosen the biggest one in their collection. It must’ve taken a while to work it inside himself, but Louis still wishes he’d been the one to do it. 

“Let’s get this out of you now,” he murmurs as he turns the base, making one of Harry’s bound legs twitch. “Push a little, okay?” 

Harry nods, and Louis gets a good grip on the base and starts tugging. Harry’s body doesn’t want to let go, even though the boy is pushing fairly hard, and it takes a lot of wiggling and twisting to finally get Harry’s muscles to give up the toy. Louis sucks in a breath when he finally sees how big the bulb was inside Harry. 

“Fuck, babe, you got this in all by yourself?” he wonders aloud, staring at the black silicone where it shines with lubricant. 

Harry nods, and Louis can hear him panting softly through his nose from the effort of having the plug removed. Louis wipes the lube off the toy with the towel on the bed before putting it aside, rubbing the backs of Harry’s thighs soothingly. When Harry’s breathing returns to normal, Louis reaches over the edge of the bed to get the set of anal beads—and the ring gag, for later use. 

“I was looking at all the photos you’ve sent me,” Louis explains as he settles back down on the mattress and strokes over Harry’s entrance. He swirls his fingers around the soft, slick ring of muscle, listening to Harry whine into the underwear in his mouth. “Loved that one back home with the ring gag. We haven’t really used that much, have we?” 

Harry shakes his head, his eyelashes fluttering when Louis pushes two fingers inside him. The digits slide in easily, since Harry is so well stretched from the plug, and Louis quickly starts scissoring them open as he thrusts in and out. 

“Missed having you like this,” Louis says, trying to keep talking to keep Harry calm. He wraps his other hand around Harry’s erection, stroking it in time with the thrusts of his fingers. “Do you have any idea how hot you look, tied up and spread open for me?” 

A light pink blush spreads across Harry’s cheeks, and he makes a soft noise through the panties in his mouth. Louis adds a little lube and slips a third finger inside him easily, slowing his other hand down to make sure he doesn’t push Harry over the edge; he doesn’t want the boy coming until the whole string of beads is inside him. 

“M’so fucking lucky,” Louis murmurs, watching where his fingers disappear in Harry’s body. Harry had gotten himself so loose with the plug that Louis’s able to get his pinky in as well. “You know how many people fantasize about you? And I’ve got you tied up in my bed.” 

Harry’s blush darkens, and Louis can tell he’s fighting a smile. He presses a kiss to the inside of Harry’s knee before spreading all four of his fingers open wide, listening to Harry suck in a sharp breath through his nose. 

“I think you’re ready babe,” he says after a few more minutes of stretching him out. “Still green?” 

Harry nods, but he opens his mouth and gives Louis a desperate look. 

“If those panties come out, the ring gag goes in,” Louis warns, giving Harry the choice. Harry promptly pushes the black fabric out with his tongue until it drops onto his chest. 

Smirking, Louis tosses the panties onto the floor and grabs the gag he set aside. He gets up on his knees to lean over Harry’s body and situate the large ring behind his teeth, pulling the straps behind his head to buckle them tight against his curls. The way Harry’s hands are bound, he could easily unbuckle the gag if he wanted to, but again, Louis is confident he won’t. Harry’s probably deep enough in his headspace by now to not even realize he could undo his own gag. 

When Louis sits back on his heels, he gives Harry a smile. “Even hotter than the picture,” he says, watching Harry’s lips and tongue move as he tries to get used to the new intrusion. The silver ring is big, stretching Harry’s jaws wide enough that Louis can see straight into his mouth where saliva is already building up. 

“Can’t wait to see if I can fit in there,” he adds, tearing his gaze from Harry’s mouth to watch his green eyes widen. Smirking again, Louis picks up the set of beads. “But first thing’s first.” 

It’s hard to stay on task when all he wants to do is sit back and just _look_ at Harry. He is such an incredible sight, with his long legs bent back, open, and tied, his wrists bound behind his neck, and of course the ring gag keeping his mouth open. But the whole point of this was to get all four anal beads inside Harry like Harry was unable to do on his own. 

Louis realizes he’s still wearing the clothes he wore on the plane, so he takes a second to pull off the joggers, hoodie, and t-shirt so he’s just as naked and exposed as Harry. His cock is still plenty hard—thank god—and he gives it a couple hard pulls for good measure. He glances up at Harry just in time to watch the first bit of spit dribble over his bottom lip and down his chin. 

“Alright,” he announces, slathering lube on the smallest of the four black beads, all connected by a thin black string. This one is about the size of a Ping-Pong ball, and once it’s covered in lubricant, he places it against Harry’s opening. “Ready?” 

Harry gives him a tight nod, trying to watch in the cramped position he’s tied in as Louis starts pushing the bead. Louis bites down on his lower lip in concentration as he gradually increases pressure. 

They gasp in unison when Harry’s hole suddenly gives way, opening up around the black ball and swallowing it in. Louis feels a sharp jolt of excitement low in his belly as he watches the bead disappear inside Harry, the ring of muscle closing around only the black string now. 

“There we go,” Louis murmurs, kissing along Harry’s thigh. He keeps going, trailing his mouth down to Harry’s balls, sucking on them briefly before continuing on to kiss the place where the first bead had just vanished. 

Harry lets out a soft whine, gurgling on the spit built up in his mouth that he can’t swallow as Louis tongues his hole. Louis wiggles his tongue in alongside the string, amazed at how effortlessly Harry’s body accepts him from all the stretching. With his tongue still there, he grabs hold of the string and starts pulling, licking along Harry’s hole where it widens around the bead as it’s slowly pulled back out. 

Louis straightens up when the bead falls to the bed, giving Harry’s cock a few strokes as a reward before shoving the bead back inside him. “Look how easy you’re taking it,” he says, thumbing over Harry’s slit with one hand as he lubes up the second bead with the other. He’s getting lube everywhere, but he doesn’t care; that’s what the towel is for. 

The second bead is larger than the first, and Louis rolls it against Harry’s entrance to make sure the lubricant is all over. He watches as Harry’s stomach muscles ripple and tense, and he leans over to kiss the spot just under his belly button, above the head of his engorged cock. “Relax, baby,” he whispers. 

Harry whines again, so Louis sits back up and starts pushing the second bead inside him. As expected, he has to put more pressure on this one than the first one, forcing more soft noises out of Harry’s open mouth. 

“Fuck,” Louis says roughly when he feels the bead leave his fingers as Harry’s body suddenly allows it inside. It’s amazing to watch Harry’s hole stretch around the perfect circle and then close tightly, both balls nestled inside him. 

Louis places his mouth over Harry’s taint and presses down with his lips and tongue. The moan Harry makes sends shivers down Louis’s spine, and he keeps pressing, knowing he’s making the beads rub over Harry’s prostate this way. When Louis gets tired, he uses his fingers to the same effect—and this way he can watch Harry’s face. 

“Does that feel good?” he teases, pressing harder with the pads of his fingers and watching Harry frantically nod his head. The boy’s chin is shining wet with spit now, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and upper lip. He lets out another gurgling moan. 

“Ready for the third one, love?” Louis asks. Harry’s eyes flutter closed, and he nods once. 

Louis pauses. “Still green?” he adds, wanting to make sure this isn’t too much for Harry. Without opening his eyes, Harry nods again, unable to answer verbally. 

Louis soaks the third bead in lube, spreading it all around and feeling the size of the sphere in his palm. He’s impressed that Harry had managed to get this one inside of himself alone in Los Angeles—but Harry had also gotten that massive plug inside himself alone tonight. Maybe Louis should stop underestimating him so much. 

“Alright, here we go,” Louis says as he starts trying to get the third largest bead inside Harry. He presses hard with his fingers, knuckles turning white with the pressure, and Harry starts panting noisily through his gag. 

Since he’s pressing so hard, it’s especially sudden when Harry’s hole opens up to accept it. Harry’s eyes roll back into his head, and Louis’s widen as he sees just how hugely Harry’s entrance stretches around the bead. He uses the string to pull it halfway back out just so he can marvel at the size. 

“Holy shit, babe, if you could see this,” Louis whispers, letting the bead slide back inside Harry’s body so his hole closes completely before tugging it partly back out again. Harry’s hole is wet and pink and so, so stretched. Louis’s not sure he’s ever seen it like this. 

Harry opens his eyes, but they’re unfocused and glassy. Louis gives him a reassuring smile as he uses two fingers to push the third bead back in and then even farther up Harry’s channel, so there’s room for the fourth and largest bead to get inside. Harry fidgets in his bonds at the sensation, but he keeps quiet. 

“Just one more,” Louis says as he wraps his fingers around the fourth bead where it hangs from the string peaking out of Harry’s hole. 

It’s maybe just a little bit smaller than a tennis ball, and if Louis’s honest with himself, he’s not entirely confident he’s going to be able to get this one past Harry’s entrance. It might just be too big, and he’s terrified of hurting Harry with it. Chewing his bottom lip again, he grabs the little bottle of lube and uses the entire remainder of its contents to slick up the final bead. 

“Relax,” Louis instructs as he starts pushing. 

He pushes. He pushes until his fingers hurt. He pushes until Harry cries out, but the bead just won’t go inside him. He rubs the boy’s leg, trying to keep him calm, but he can tell by the way his abs are standing out and his thighs are trembling that Harry’s way too tense for this giant ball to get past his entrance. Louis has to knock him deeper into his headspace so he’ll let go of his nerves and let his body fully relax. 

He lets go of the bead and stands up on the bed. Harry’s unfocused eyes try to follow him as Louis spreads his legs for stability on the mattress and leans forward to grab onto the headboard. He has to bend his knees to get at the right angle, and it’s not easy or comfortable, but he manages to line up his cock with Harry’s mouth. 

“Be good for me now Haz,” Louis says through clenched teeth as he feeds his length through the ring propping Harry’s jaws open. 

Harry’s eyes widen and then slam shut when Louis’s cock fills his mouth and hits the back of his throat. He chokes hard and loud, unable to get his bearings with the gag keeping him from closing his mouth. Louis pulls his hips back before thrusting back in, making Harry choke wetly again. 

“Yeah, baby, gag on me,” Louis grunts, his muscles cramping as he tries to maintain his awkward position. He pulls all the way out, his dick coated with strings of thick spit, and he slaps it against Harry’s cheek. Harry lets out a weak noise, gazing up at Louis, his eyelashes thick and dark with tears. 

Louis angles himself again so he can slide back into Harry’s mouth. “Bet you were thinking about this when you took that picture with your finger in your mouth,” he says as he thrusts. It doesn’t feel great, since Harry can’t close his lips and suck on him, but it’s still warm and wet, and Louis’s pleasure isn’t the main focus anyway. “Thinking about me fitting in there too, right?” 

Harry gurgles before gagging when Louis hits the back of his throat again, his entire body jerking with the force of it. His eyes well up with tears that streak down his flushed cheeks. Louis thrusts in and out a few more times until Harry looks completely wrecked, and then he pulls out and starts jerking himself off furiously. 

The point of his orgasm is more to make Harry submit further than to give himself pleasure, so he gets himself there quickly and doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, he focuses on coating Harry’s stretched lips with his come, aiming some inside of his open mouth as well. 

Harry’s so far gone; Louis’s not sure he’s ever seen him like this. Tied up and gagged; strings of white seed hanging from his lips and chin, a pool of it on his tongue, unswallowed. His pupils are as big as saucers in his bleary eyes, cheeks wet with tears; the fourth bead hangs by its string between his legs. 

Breathing hard from his orgasm, Louis drops back down to his knees on the bed and picks up the final bead. Making sure it’s still lubed up, he starts trying to push it past Harry’s entrance again, wondering if the face-fucking through the gag was enough to get the boy to let go one hundred percent. 

He can’t help his loud gasp when Harry’s body suddenly swallows up the final bead. If Louis had thought watching his body stretch around the third bead was amazing, it’s nothing compared to the fourth. It’s absolutely massive, and Harry’s entire body shudders as his hole closes around it. 

“Oh my god,” Louis breathes as he stares at just the few inches black string remaining outside Harry’s entrance. All four beads are nestled deep inside him now, rolling over his prostate, more than he’s ever taken at once before. “So proud of you, Harry.” 

Louis rubs over Harry’s taint again, watching Harry’s cock twitch and bob at the sensation. Harry starts struggling against his bonds, desperate to come now, so Louis smiles and grips onto Harry’s inner thighs. He ducks his head down to suck his length into his mouth. 

Harry let out a guttural noise, his arms jerking forward from where they’re bound behind his head. Louis sucks him off hard and quick, unable to wait another minute to see Harry come and clench around four huge beads. Harry gets louder and louder as his orgasm approaches, Louis’s fingers digging into his thighs as he takes him deep into his throat.

Louis can feel Harry’s orgasm rip through his body, his legs clenching beneath his fingers, his cock pulsing on his tongue. It’s hard to swallow down everything Harry has to give, but Louis tries his hardest—he owes that much to the boy at least. He keeps sucking and tonguing Harry’s sensitive head after he’s done, making tremors continue to run through his muscles, his ass clenching around the four beads. Only when Harry lets out an especially pained whimper does Louis pull off. 

“You were amazing,” Louis murmurs as he straightens up and starts untying Harry. He undoes the knots on the bedposts, slowly helping Harry lower his stiff legs down onto the mattress before untying the knots around his thighs. Then he reaches behind Harry’s head to unfasten the cuffs from behind his head and then the collar. The last thing to come off is the come-covered ring gag. Louis kisses along Harry’s sore jaw, even where it’s dripping with spit and seed, murmuring praises in his ear as Harry swallows repeatedly. He yanks the towel out from underneath Harry's body and uses it to wipe the boy's face clean.

Harry sags against the pillows now that his limbs are free, whining softly with every breath and weakly holding onto one of Louis’s wrists. “Beads?” he whispers, forcing his eyes halfway open to seek out Louis’s face.

Louis gives him a reassuring smile. “You okay for me to take them out?” he asks. 

Harry nods, groaning as he lets his legs fall open. “So full… Feel so full…” 

Louis knows he must be aching after being tied up like that for so long, and he wants to make this last part quick, but he also has to be careful. They could hurt Harry just as much on the way out as the way in. 

“Stay relaxed for me,” he says firmly, lifting one of Harry’s legs and hooking it over his shoulder to hold him open. He gives him a reassuring kiss on the knee, since it’s so close to his face, before grabbing hold of the string between his legs. He waits until he sees Harry’s chest expand with a deep breath before he starts pulling. 

The pressure makes sweat bead on Harry’s temples, dripping into his hairline. Louis has to wrap the string around his finger to be able to pull hard enough for the biggest bead to come out, and Harry sucks in a shuddering gasp when it finally does. Louis nips at his inner thigh gently, trying to keep him distracted from the sensation as he keeps pulling until the third largest bead comes out, too.

“Two out, two more to go,” he whispers. Harry nods, so Louis gets a better grip and pulls out the final two beads. They come out a lot easier than the first two, and he’s amazed to be holding the entire string in his hand again. It’s shocking how huge it seems compared to Harry’s body, and they both stare at it for a minute.

“Please,” Harry whines, unhooking his leg from Louis’s shoulder and trying to grab onto his shoulder to pull him down for a cuddle.

Louis immediately wraps his arms around Harry’s middle and settles in behind him, kicking the soiled towel off the bed and snuggling into the cool, clean sheets. He rhythmically brushes Harry’s sweat-soaked hair off his forehead, whispering praises and kissing his neck. 

After ten or fifteen minutes of silence, Louis can’t help but blurt out, “Was that okay?” 

Harry stirs a little, half asleep. “Yes,” he mumbles, his jaws still too sore to open fully. “Felt…unbelievable. Love you.” 

“Love you, too,” Louis echoes, still unconvinced. “Are…are you sure?” 

Sensing Louis’s unease, Harry uses the last of his energy to roll over so they’re front-to-front. “Yes,” he repeats, kissing Louis hard on the mouth. 

“It wasn’t too much?” 

“No, it was perfect.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“ _Yes_.” Harry nips sharply at Louis’s lower lip, hoping to get him to snap out of it. “Except you ripped my brand new underwear.” 

Louis groans and laughs at the same time, burying his face in his hands. “Those were pretty fucking hot,” he admits, peeking at Harry from between his fingers.

“Well, you promised to buy me more,” Harry reminds him, his voice getting slower and rougher as he continued to fight sleep. 

“I will,” Louis promises, kissing Harry’s eyelids as they fall closed. “Sleep, baby. We have a few days off until our next show.” 

“Mm,” Harry hums, happy to be reminded of that. As he drifts off to sleep in Louis’s arms, Louis’s mind lingers on thoughts of their next show—and he’s hit with the sudden realization that they still don’t know what’s happening with Zayn.


	14. Jilted in Johannesburg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the unthinkable happens, Harry finds comfort in comforting Louis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wait wasn't so bad this time, right? It's a bit on the shorter side, though. Fair warning, next chapter will be the last one (I usually max out at 15, sorry)! Thank you all for your lovely words of encouragement here and on tumblr.

**Thursday, March 26—Johannesburg, South Africa  
** _\- Harry -_

Harry lets himself into their hotel suite and immediately shivers in the cold of the air conditioning. His skin is coated with drying sweat, and his damp t-shirt is sticking to his chest. Since landing in South Africa last night, he’s spent most of the day in and out of the gym. 

The only light on in the entire suite is coming from the bathroom, and it pours through the half-open door and slices across the enormous bed. Harry can just make out a small lump under the covers on one side with a tuft of brown hair peeking out the top.

Kicking off his trainers, he walks quietly across the carpet in his socks and comes to stand next to the bed. There's a box of cigarettes on the bedside table, but Harry notices there's not a single butt in the ashtray. He tucks a finger under the top of the duvet and tugs it down to reveal Louis’s face.

Louis’s eyelids twitch and then peel open, the usual electric blue dull and red-rimmed. He looks confused for a moment before focusing on Harry, and then he flips onto his other side with a huff and burrows back under the covers.

“Lou,” Harry murmurs, stroking along his spine over the duvet. “Come on, babe, you haven’t gotten out of bed all day. Don’t you want some dinner?”

He can hear Louis’s muffled sigh, so he gives up trying to reason with him and just slides into bed beside him. As he snakes his arms around the boy’s middle, he half expects him to try and pull away, but to his surprise Louis grabs his wrists and tugs him even closer.

Harry doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet and just holds Louis. He can’t tell him everything’s going to be okay, or not to worry; Louis hates being bull shitted like that. The best thing to do, Harry thinks, is just try to be there for him.

After a while, Louis flips over and nuzzles his face into Harry’s chest. “You smell,” he mumbles.

Harry laughs, pressing his lips into Louis’s downy hair. “Been running,” he says.

“All day?”

“Pretty much,” Harry admits; he doesn’t know how to deal with this level of stress in a foreign country any other way. “Want to take a shower with me?” he asks. He’s not about to say anything, but Louis doesn’t smell so great himself. Harry’s not sure if he ever showered after their show in Jakarta before flying here.

There’s a pause before Louis nods, his nose brushing over Harry’s sternum. Harry kisses the top of his head one more time before getting out of bed. Louis follows him much slower, moving like every muscle hurts with his shoulders hunched and his legs stiff. Harry guides him through the dark bedroom and into the bathroom.

Harry dims the sconces when Louis grimaces at the brightness, bathing them in soft, warm light. He pinches the hem of Louis’s shirt—which he realizes is one of his own, an old Rolling Stones t-shirt probably nicked from his suitcase and far too large for Louis—and tugs it up over his head. Louis does little to help, his arms falling limply back to his sides once the shirt is off. 

Silently, Harry kisses over Louis’s collarbones, the tanned skin glowing in the dimmed lights. There are so many words built up in the back of his throat, but he swallows them down, scared of saying the wrong thing. He just wants to make sure Louis feels loved.

Louis’s joggers come down to his ankles easily, and Harry kisses the tops of his thighs as Louis steps out of the material. He sighs, his breath tickling the light hairs on Louis’s legs, and he presses his forehead to Louis’s hip and allows himself a moment to close his eyes. 

When he straightens back up, Harry strips off his own gym attire and adds it to the pile of Louis’s clothes on the marble floor. He reaches into the giant glass shower to turn it on, waiting a minute for steam to fill the room before stepping inside. Louis doesn’t follow him, however; he just stands there, naked in the middle of the dimly lit bathroom, staring at the opposite wall with half-closed eyes.

Already dripping wet, Harry gets out of the shower and walks back over to him. “Come on,” he whispers, placing a hand on the small of Louis’s back and guiding him into the glass enclosure. 

Louis comes to a stop in the middle of the shower, dropping his chin and letting the stream of water hit his head and run down his face. The sight makes Harry’s chest ache, and he walks up behind the other boy and wraps his arms around his middle, kissing the back of his neck before hooking his chin over his shoulder.

They stand there together under the spray, temporarily soothed by the hot water and each other. Harry rubs circles into the soft spot on Louis’s lower tummy, praying this turn of events won’t have Louis dropping weight again.

“I love you,” he whispers when he can’t take the silence anymore, his voice barely audible over the roaring sound of the powerful hotel showerhead. When Louis doesn’t respond, Harry takes him by the waist and gently turns him around, so the water hits the back of his shoulders instead of his head.

Louis sort of collapses forward once he’s turned, leaning heavily against Harry’s chest with his arms dangling at his sides. Harry makes a surprised noise that he hopes is covered up by the loud shower and struggles to keep them both standing upright. 

“Hey, hey,” he coaxes, trying to snap Louis out of it. “M’gonna wash you, okay? But you have to stand up.”

“Can wash myself,” Louis mumbles with a frown, but he makes no move to do so as Harry lets go of him and wets a washcloth.

Harry loads up the cloth with hotel body wash and spends an extra long time scrubbing every inch of Louis’s body. Louis doesn’t really watch him, his eyes only flicking down whenever Harry runs the washcloth over a particularly ticklish area, like under his arms or behind his knees. But Harry isn’t deterred by Louis’s lack of a reaction, determined to wash away some of the bad feelings.

When all of Louis’s skin is slightly pinked from the cloth, Harry hangs it over a rod to dry and pours out some shampoo onto his palm. Minding Louis’s eyes, he starts working the fruity-smelling gel into the boy’s hair, taking the time to massage his scalp and kiss his shoulder blades. This treatment earns him a soft, breathy sound from Louis that he thinks is of pleasure.

Using the handheld showerhead attachment, Harry rinses Louis’s hair clean before repeating the process with conditioner. Louis’s eyes seem a little clearer now, and he even tips his own head back to rinse this time. Harry daringly leans in and catches his mouth in a quick kiss, surprised to feel Louis’s lips press against his in return.

“Feels like _X Factor_ ,” Louis says as Harry reaches out of the shower to grab his own special shampoo and conditioner from the bag on the counter.

Harry frowns as he closes the door, popping the top on his shampoo. “What do you mean?” he asks, scared of asking the wrong question that’ll make Louis stop talking.

Louis sighs, and Harry doesn’t press him, just quietly working the shampoo into his wet curls and waiting. “The uncertainty,” Louis finally answers.

Harry’s not sure he understands, but asking too many questions when Louis’s not in a talkative mood is usually a surefire way to make him clam up. Before he can say anything, though, Louis speaks again.

“Do you remember that feeling? Everyday? Would we make it through the auditions, would we sound okay as a group, how would the performance go, what would the judges say?” 

Harry nods, his stomach squirming at the memories; he had hated the anxiety of the _X Factor_ so much. He’d been so consumed with his own feelings back then, though, that he’d never really given much thought to how the other boys had felt. He waits to rinse out his hair until Louis finishes. 

“And then, would we make it past _X Factor_? Would people come to our shows, would they buy our music? That,” Louis says. “That’s what this reminds me of.”

Harry sighs, because Louis’s so right—that constant uncertainty about what tomorrow, or even the next minute, would bring is exactly what it feels like now. He tips his head back under the spray, letting the water pressure against his scalp temporarily distract him. 

Louis drags his toes through a puddle of water on the shower floor. “I’m so mad,” he adds unexpectedly.

“It’s okay to be mad,” he says, hating the way the words sound the second they’re out of his mouth. He’s not Louis’s middle school psychologist, he’s his _boyfriend._

“I was mad then, too,” Louis says. “When we lost.” 

Harry nods. “Me too. Mad, sad…a lot of things.”

“But we made it past _X Factor_?”

Harry glances over to find Louis’s eyes, deep blue in the dim light, staring straight at him for the first time since Harry had woken him. He realizes that Louis hadn’t said that last sentence; he’d asked it. 

“Yes…” Harry trails off nervously.

Louis just keeps looking at him, and suddenly Harry catches on.

“And we’ll make it past this,” he says, as firmly as he can manage. “The uncertainly will go away again. I didn’t feel it so much when we were on stage last night, did you?”

Louis shakes his head, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Felt good on stage,” he agrees.

“A stadium full of fans that still wanted to see the four of us,” Harry says as he works some conditioner into the ends of his long hair.

Louis’s face falls at the mention of fans. “Have you read what they’ve been tweeting?” he asks. 

Harry has. It’s impossible not to check during a time like this. “They’ll be okay,” he assures him. “It’s hard for them, too. And it was more sudden for them than it was for us.”

“That’s the thing,” Louis says, picking at the bar of soap on the ledge. “So many of them were asking, when did he stop loving it? Like, they had no idea.” 

“They weren’t supposed to know,” Harry says by way of an explanation as he rinses out the conditioner.

Louis hums unhappily, watching Harry finish washing his hair. There are goose bumps breaking out all over his skin from standing out of the water, but he doesn’t seem to care. When Harry’s done soaping up his own body, he pulls Louis back under the hot spray with him.

“Have you heard from him yet?” he asks, tucking his face in Louis’s neck and breathing in the smell of the body wash.

Louis shakes his head a little. “Not yet,” he replies. “I…keep thinking about texting him, but I don’t know what to say.”

Harry kisses the sensitive spot behind his ear. “That’s okay,” he says, nosing into Louis’s wet hair. “You’ll talk when you’re ready. When he’s ready.”

“It’s just…” Louis trails off, fidgeting in Harry’s tight hold. Harry waits for him to finish. “He said he was coming back, you know?”

Harry plays with the rivulets of water streaming over Louis’s hipbone. “I know. It makes me mad to think about,” he admits, feeling Louis stiffen in surprise. “But…he’s doing what he needs right now, I guess. Not everyone’s made for this. This lifestyle.”

“He never really…loved it,” Louis agrees. “I think he sort of choked it down for five years, for us. And that shit show in Phuket was the last straw.”

“We’ll make it past this,” Harry says, echoing his earlier sentiment. “Us. And the band.”

“Everyone is saying you’ll be the next to leave,” Louis mumbles into his shoulder.

Harry frowns, pushing Louis a few inches away from him so they can look each other in the eye. “How can you even—? I’m not going anywhere.”

Louis drops his gaze, and Harry’s not sure if the boy’s cheeks are pink from the heat of the shower or from embarrassment. His blue eyes shimmer as they fill with tears before his buries his face in Harry’s chest.

Harry sighs, knowing Louis’s words just came from insecurity and not true belief. “Let’s get out of here,” he mutters, reaching around Louis to turn off the water.

He leads the older boy, who’s gone back into that slightly catatonic state, out of the shower and into the middle of the bathroom. These five-star suites always have stupidly enormous bathrooms, Harry thinks as he walks around the perimeter to collect towels and body lotion. He runs one towel over himself before tying it around his waist and coming back to Louis with the other one.

Louis’s eyes halfheartedly follow Harry as he pats every inch of him dry, concentrating on the task. Harry’s not sure why he’s doing this—taking so much time to wash Louis, dry him off, and rub lotion into his skin—but something about doing the simple tasks right is making him feel better. He hopes all the special attention is making Louis feel better, too.

When he finishes, Louis’s entire body is dry and shining with citrus-scented lotion, but his shoulders are still slumped, and the corners of his mouth are downturned. Harry traces along the words tattooed on his collarbone, kissing the tip of his nose. “Give me a minute, and then we’ll get back in bed, okay?” he whispers.

Louis manages a little nod, so Harry walks over to the sink. If he doesn’t brush his hair and wash his face before they go to bed, he’ll wake up with a rat’s nest on his head and pimples on his chin. Not to mention there’s comfort to be found in routine. He tries to be quick about it at least, scrubbing his face clean before reaching for his hairbrush.

Louis’s hand beats him to it, though, and Harry looks up into the mirror in surprise. Their gazes lock briefly in the reflection before Louis lifts the brush up to Harry’s hair and starts carefully pulling it through his wet curls, frowning in concentration. 

As the shock from Louis’s gesture fades, Harry allows himself to enjoy the treat of having someone else brush his hair. It’s not like when Lou does it, with teasing combs and hairspray and hot tools—it’s soothing and intimate, and Harry finds his eyelids growing heavy as his heart rate slows.

Louis doesn’t stop once the tangles are out, and Harry realizes that he’s alternating between using the hairbrush and just finger-combing with his free hand. It feels incredible, and after a few minutes Louis puts down the brush altogether to just rub Harry’s scalp with both hands.

Harry lets out a soft noise of contentment when Louis’s fingers trail down his body and come to settle on his hips, and he feels the boy’s lips press into the skin between his shoulder blades. Then, suddenly, all the contact is gone as Louis pulls away and heads into the bedroom.

It takes Harry a moment to gather himself and follow the other boy, his mind still a little fuzzy from what just happened. When he opens the bathroom door, he finds Louis already back in bed, the covers pulled over his head. The urge to roll his eyes is overwhelmed by the pang of sympathy in his chest; he knows Louis feels hurt and confused by this whole situation, just like the rest of them, but this act is turning into a bit of a cry for attention.  Harry doesn’t mind giving it to him, though, if that’s what he needs to feel better.

He puts on flannel pajama pants and a sweatshirt, the room still cold from the air conditioning, before walking over and standing next to the bed. “Babe,” he murmurs, rubbing circles into Louis’s bare shoulder with his thumb. “Have you eaten at all today?”

Louis doesn’t answer, which is all the answer Harry needs. He finds Louis’s phone on the bedside table and sends a couple texts to Alberto before climbing onto the opposite side of the bed and sitting beside Louis. He keeps one hand on Louis’s naked body while scrolling through Twitter with the other.

It takes about fifteen minutes until someone knocks on the door to their suite. Harry feels Louis’s muscles stiffen beneath his hand, and he gives him a reassuring pat before sliding out of bed.

When he opens the door, he has to stand in the jamb to make sure Alberto can’t get inside, assuring him that Louis is and will be okay. Alberto doesn’t seem to believe him and looks very tempted to just shove Harry aside and see for himself, but in the end, Harry manages to convince him to just give him the room service cart and leave.

He wheels the cart silently over the lush carpet, bringing it to the bed. He flicks on the bedside lamp. “ _Lou_ -is,” he sings. “Sit up, you have to eat something.”

As Harry predicted, Louis just grunts and doesn’t move. So he has to pull out the trump card.

“It’s ice cream.”

It takes a second, but Louis’s fingers appear at the top of the duvet and tug it down just low enough to uncover his eyes. “Ice cream?” he asks, voice muffled.

Harry flashes him a dimpled grin before uncovering the plate with a flourish. Underneath the domed lid are two large bowls of ice cream topped with whipped cream, chocolate syrup, rainbow sprinkles, and of course, a cherry.

Louis makes no further move, so Harry pushes the cart up right next to the bed before climbing on top of him. “Up, up, up, come on,” he encourages, taking Louis by the armpits and dragging him up so he’s sitting against the pillows. Louis’s still naked, his damp hair is sticking up in spikes, and he looks grumpy and a bit dazed, but he doesn’t fight Harry. 

Kneeling on the bed, straddling Louis’s thighs, Harry grabs one of the bowls and loads up a spoonful of ice cream. When he moves it toward Louis’s mouth though, the older boy purses his lips and turns his head away. 

“Lou,” Harry says exasperatedly.

Louis’s eyes flick toward him. “Cherry first,” he demands.

Harry snorts as the tension immediately deflates. He drops the spoon back into the bowl and picks up the cherry by its stem, dangling it in front of Louis’s mouth. When Louis goes to eat it, Harry considers yanking it back to tease him, but instead settles on watching the sexy sight of Louis’s lips wrapping around the bright red cherry and sucking it into his mouth.

Harry tugs the stem until it parts from the cherry, tossing it onto the cart. As Louis chews, Harry picks the spoon back up and readies it. 

“What flavor?” Louis asks after he’s swallowed. 

“This one’s mint chocolate chip.” He glances at the other bowl. “I think that one’s Neapolitan.”

Louis nods in approval at the choices, and this time when Harry brings the spoon up to his mouth, he opens up. Harry careful feeds him the bite of green ice cream, and when Louis’s mouth opens up again to release the spoon, Harry dutifully returns it to the bowl for more.

After half the bowl is gone, Harry starts adding some of the whipped cream to each bite. On a particularly large spoonful, a bit of the whipped cream falls from the spoon when Louis goes to eat it, dropping onto his chest. Harry doesn’t think, just immediately ducks his head down to lick it off his skin, taking a little extra time than necessary to clean the sweet spot off with his tongue.

Louis fidgets but doesn’t speak, watching Harry work. When Harry eventually straightens up, Louis reaches forward, dipping two fingers into the chocolate syrup in the bowl and lifting them up to Harry’s mouth.

Harry’s eyes widen, but he wraps his tongue around Louis’s fingers and sucks off the chocolate. “This wasn’t supposed to be sexy,” he admits once they’re clean. “I just wanted you to eat something before bed.”

Louis looks conflicted, but then he shrugs and takes the bowl and spoon from Harry. “Come eat yours,” he says, indicating the spot next to him with a nod of his head.

Harry feels guilty, not sure if he’s doing the right thing again. He really hadn’t intended to feed Louis ice cream in attempt to lead to sex—ice cream just happened to be one of those unintentionally sexy foods, and Louis just happened to love ice cream enough to wake up to eat it. But what if having sex would help Louis take his mind off things?

“Do you, um.” Harry clears his throat, sliding off of Louis’s thighs and coming to sit next to him. “Do you want to fuck?” 

Louis gives him a sad sort of half smile. “No, love, that’s okay,” he says. He reaches over and thumbs off a bit of chocolate from Harry’s lip before tucking the finger into Harry’s mouth. Harry dutifully sucks it clean. 

Harry frowns, because Louis’s words aren’t exactly matching his actions, but Harry doesn’t want to push it. He makes grabby hands toward the cart until Louis gives him the other bowl, and then they both eat silently. Harry works on the strawberry part of the Neapolitan first, savoring the taste of real ice cream—organic California frozen yogurt just does not compare.

He only allows himself half of each of the three flavors, leaving the whipped cream behind before handing the bowl back to Louis to put on the cart. Louis finishes his bowl a few minutes later.

“Do _you_ want to fuck?” he asks, breaking the silence.

Harry glances over at him. “If you want to…?” 

Louis’s quiet for a second before his face twists into a sneer. “I think we’ve been fucked over enough for one day,” he declares before sinking back down under the covers.

Harry’s stomach drops, and he lets out a loud sigh. Louis’s angry, so angry, and it sucks, but Harry had just told him in the shower that it’s okay to feel angry. Maybe going to sleep and ending this horrid day isn’t such a bad idea after all. He gets out of bed to wheel the room service cart back into the hall, locking all the various locks on the suite door before going into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

When he comes back into the bedroom, he shuts off the lamp and slides in behind Louis. He spoons his fully clothed body up behind Louis’s naked one, holding onto his hot skin and kissing the back of his neck. Louis smells like the citrus body lotion, and Harry takes a deep breath. When he speaks, his voice is slow and strained, muffled against Louis’s hair. 

“We’ll make it past this.”


	15. Jumbled in Johannesburg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis asks Harry for help in the only way he knows how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that, we're finished! I had my doubts that we'd get here. Thank you again and again for your kind comments, they are the most important things in the world for a writer.
> 
> My plan for the summer is to take a stab at an AU, and to post it in full instead of chapter-by-chapter. Hope to see you soon! Come follow me on tumblr (same username) if you want to chat or just see loads of Harry and Louis pictures.

**Friday, March 27—Johannesburg, South Africa  
** _\- Louis -_

The only thing Louis has found the energy to do all day is live stream the England/Lithuania footie match on his laptop—and sneak a nice sexual innuendo into his tweet about it. He knows the fans want to see some sense of normalcy from him, and he owes that much to them; it’s not hard to send out a tweet or two. Now that that’s over, though, he’s back under the covers where he’s spent the majority of the past forty-eight hours. 

Some of the numbness has worn off, however, to be replaced with a horrible itch under his skin. He feels angry at the whole situation, that goes without saying. But now he also feels guilty—guilty for not having left his hotel room in two days despite flying three of his best mates down to South Africa with him (he’s hardly even answered any of their texts); guilty for being difficult with Harry last night. He feels powerless, because like he had tried to describe yesterday by comparing it to _X Factor_ , everything seems to be hanging by a thread all of a sudden.

He also feels a jumble of emotions he can’t quite identify, and now adrenaline is thrumming through his veins. Restless, he turns over under the duvet and buries his face in a pillow. He can feel his heartbeat in his fingertips and hear it in his ears; he considers taking one of the anxiety pills he still carries around for emergencies that he used to take every night, but he doesn’t want the numbness to return. 

Suddenly, he knows what would make him feel better.

He needs Harry.

The realization hits him, and he flips back over to stare at the ceiling. The amount of time Louis has spent in bed in South Africa is just about the same amount of time Harry has spent in the gym, which is where Louis assumes he is now. He chews his bottom lip, finding his phone in the sheets and debating on what to do. 

He can’t just text Harry, ‘Please come wreck me in bed to help with my anxiety,’ can he? He types it out a hundred different ways, but they all sound stupid. What if he sends Harry a dirty picture the way Harry had when he'd wanted Louis to come home from the club? He pulls up the front-facing camera and nearly gags at the image. 

No, he is certainly not sending Harry a picture looking like this. His skin has lost its usual tanned glow and now looks pasty and gaunt, his cheekbones sticking out too much. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his facial hair is way too long. Forget a picture, he can’t initiate sex at all until he takes a shower and shaves. 

With the first rush of energy he’s felt in days, Louis gets out of bed. The first thing he does is call housekeeping to change the bedding, because he’s pretty sure it reeks, and then he locks himself in the bathroom for half an hour and doesn’t emerge until some of the color is back in his cheeks, his beard has been tamed down to a sexy stubble, and he smells like citrus soap. 

Harry still isn’t back, and Louis doesn’t know what to text him, so he pulls on some clean joggers, a pair of socks, and one of Harry’s big t-shirts and tries to find the gym. Alberto will inevitably murder him for sneaking around the hotel late at night without calling him first, but Louis only wants Harry. He doesn’t even remember where the elevator bank is, having not left the room since they checked in, but he finds it eventually and hits the floor button that says “24 HOUR FITNESS CENTER AND DAY SPA” beside it. 

The elevator goes down a few floors and lets Louis off in front of some grand glass doors with a reception desk behind them. The older woman seated there doesn’t recognize him, but she narrows her eyes at his tattoos like something in the back of her mind is trying to remind her that she’s been warned about a raucous British boyband staying in the hotel.

“Hello,” Louis says, flashing her an unreciprocated smile. Just from showering and shaving, he feels reenergized and more like himself than he has in days. “Seen a tall lad around, curly hair, probably wearing shorts that are too short and a headband?”

She gives him a blank look. “Pool,” she says, pointing at one door. “Gym,” she says, pointing to another. “And spa.” 

“Ah, thank you,” Louis says, deciding to check the gym first.

His instinct doesn’t fail him; the gym is completely empty except for Harry, his main bodyguard, and another hotel staff member. Harry (complete with short-shorts and a headband) is running on the treadmill with the other two standing close nearby, and they stiffen when Louis walks in. 

“Why are you alone?” Harry’s bodyguard, Dale, immediately demands. “Where’s Alberto?”

“Asleep, I’d imagine,” Louis replies, picking his way through elliptical machines and stair masters to get to Harry’s treadmill. The younger boy punches a button to lower the speed, slowing down to a brisk walk so he can look over at Louis.

“Lou?” he asks breathlessly, eyes wide when he takes in Louis’s clean-shaven appearance. “You—you’re up.”

Louis stands close to the treadmill, quiet for a minute, just watching Harry’s long legs move in his tiny shorts. Now that he’s in the other boy’s presence, he finds himself completely lost for words. Reaching over, he grabs a handful of Harry’s bum as it bounces with each step. “You better not be running off this ass you just got,” he warns, giving it a good squeeze before Harry swats his hand away. “Done any squats today, Harold? Where’s Mark?” 

Harry’s hand whips out to grab onto the handrail, having almost lost his balance swatting at Louis. “He went to bed, was with me all day,” he answers through gritted teeth. 

“How long have you been on there?” Louis asks, trying to remember the last time Harry had checked on him in their room today. Leaning over the handrail to peer at the treadmill screen, his head bumps into Harry’s side, and there’s a loud squeaking sound as Harry’s trainer jams into the side of the moving belt.

“Hey, watch it!” Dale snaps, putting a hand on Louis’s shoulder. “Why don’t you give him a little space, okay?”

“Fuck off,” Louis says, pulling away.

“Just let me finish this mile,” Harry pleads, adjusting his headband and turning the speed back up. “Then we’ll go back to our room, okay?” He glances over at Dale, making sure he doesn’t try to touch Louis again, but he’s forced to face forward as his pace increases to a steady jog.

Louis feels a spike of anxiety when he loses Harry’s attention, so without thinking, he grabs onto the handrail and steps up onto the running boards on either side of the treadmill. Unbeknownst to him, there’s an emergency stop button located on the end of the handrail—and he’s just hit it.

The belt immediately halts, sending Harry running forward full-force into the front console of the treadmill with a crash.

The hotel staff member gasps, Dale yells, and Louis’s lets out a panicked, high-pitched laugh. Harry’s sweaty hands grapple with the treadmill, his body now draped over the front of it with only his toes still on the belt, and Dale shoves Louis out of the way to grab the back of Harry’s shirt and lift him back onto his feet. 

It’s a good thing Dale’s holding him back, because when Harry rounds on Louis, he looks absolutely livid. It’s not easy to upset Harry enough to get him to bypass ‘disappointed’ and go immediately to ‘angry,’ but Louis appears to have succeeded. He shrinks back, bumping into the poor, stunned staff member. 

“Go to our room,” Harry manages to spit out, his voice even slower than usual, rubbing his chest where he’d slammed it into the treadmill. Louis doesn’t even consider disobeying; he just spins on his socked foot and hightails it out of the gym. He can hear Dale yelling after him something about telling Alberto, but he doesn’t stick around long enough to listen.

His heart is pounding as he gets back in the elevator, jamming the button for the top floor and praying that’s even where their room is because he can’t remember. Yes, he’d meant to irritate Harry into paying him some attention, but he certainly hadn’t intended to _hurt_ him, not in the slightest. What if Harry had bashed his face into the treadmill? Louis’s stomach twists at the thought.

When the elevator doors open, he’s faced with a new problem—which suite is theirs? The suites are so large that only a few fit on a floor, but there are still quite a few doors to choose from, and all his has is a keycard with the hotel logo on the front. Well, he’s just going to have to try them one-by-one.

He’s hasn’t even gotten to the first door when another elevator opens behind him and Alberto storms out. “Louis!” he yells, immediately lowering his voice when he hears how loudly it reverberates in the hallway. “Dale called me—what are you _doing_?”

Louis’s face flushes. He hadn’t anticipated dealing with an angry Harry _and_ an angry bodyguard. “Trying to find my room,” he says, holding up his keycard in explanation.

Alberto’s dark eyes almost bug out of his head, and he walks forward and snatches the keycard out of Louis’s hand. Moving over to the third door, he unlocks it before grabbing Louis by the upper arm and steering him inside.

“Look,” he sighs, giving Louis a very stern look that Louis tries to takes seriously. “I get that things are messed up right now. I know you’re having a hard time. But you cannot—leave—this room—alone—in the middle—of—the night.” He emphasizes every word like Louis is a naughty toddler. “Do you understand me?”

Louis nods, looking down at the carpet. “M’sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s for _your_ safety,” Alberto reiterates. “Promise you’ll text me if you want to leave again? I don’t care what time it is.”

“Promise,” Louis echoes. When Alberto doesn’t respond, he glances up at him. “ _Promise._ ”

“Alright.” Alberto looks pacified, and he reaches out to squeeze Louis’s shoulder. “Good night. Just go to bed, okay?”

“I will,” Louis says, even though he has no intention of that. “Good night.”

Alberto gives him one last stern look before leaving. Louis watches him out the peephole, making sure he’s gone before sinking down into an armchair with a sigh. He glances around the empty suite, wondering how long it’ll be until Harry comes. He can see through the bedroom door that the bed had been remade while he was gone.

How can he show Harry what he wants—preferably without causing Harry anymore bodily harm? He drums his fingers on the arm of the chair, chewing on his bottom lip. Maybe the ‘please come wreck me in bed to help with my anxiety’ text message would’ve been the better idea after all.

 

_\- Harry -_

Once Harry splashes his face with cold water in the gym bathroom, he manages to calm down enough to think rationally about what just happened. 

He sighs, patting his face dry with a towel. Louis’s feelings about this whole situation with Zayn are complicated; Harry would never pretend to fully understand them. But when Louis acts out so blatantly like this, it’s almost always a cry for attention. _That_ he knows for sure. 

He tosses the towel into the bin and finds Dale waiting to take him back to his room. They ride the elevator up in silence, even though Harry can tell that Dale would like to give him a piece of his mind about Harry’s troublesome boyfriend, but Louis’s his employer too, so he keeps quiet.

When Harry opens the door to the suite, Louis is halfway out of an armchair in the living room, and they both freeze and stare at each other.

Harry’s voice is low and controlled; he knows what he has to do—or at least, he’s pretty sure he does. “Bedroom. Go.”

Louis only waits a second before straightening up fully and heading straight for the bedroom. He glances over his shoulder at the doorway to see if Harry is following.

“Go,” Harry repeats, pointing, and Louis turns around and goes into the room.

Harry does follow him in, shutting the door behind him to further block out any noise they might make tonight. Louis jumps at the sound, standing next to the bed and picking at the hem of his—Harry’s—t-shirt.

Taking a few deep breaths, Harry realizes before they do anything, he needs to shower off a day’s worth of sweat. Maybe it’ll be a good way to get Louis heading toward the right mindset, anyway. “Sit on the bed,” he commands. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be back in a few minutes to deal with you. Okay?”

Louis just nods his head, staring at the floor and keeping silent. It takes a lot to get Louis to completely shut up like this, and Harry wonders just how far he’s going to have to take things tonight to make Louis feel better. As he’s opening the door to the bathroom, though, Louis speaks for the first time.

“How did you know?”

Harry sighs and turns around. “Because I know you,” he replies simply before locking himself in the bathroom.

He’s honestly surprised he hadn’t seen this coming; it might’ve saved him from crashing into a treadmill. (He can already feel bruises forming on his chest and hips.) Zayn leaving had been a massive stressor, and Louis had tried to deal with it by hiding under the covers for two days. Aside from their brief conversation yesterday, Louis hasn’t talked about it; he hasn’t worked through his feelings, and he hasn’t expended any of the extra energy like Harry does in the gym. It’s really no wonder he’d sought out Harry to make him feel better in the one way he knows works.

He just wishes sometimes Louis could articulate his needs properly instead of nearly killing Harry on exercise equipment.

He wants Louis to sit on that bed and just think about what he’s got coming to him—to start sinking into that submissive state of mind before Harry even touches him—so he takes his time showering, using the time to plan out what he wants to do.

About fifteen or twenty minutes later, Harry dries off and pulls his wet hair up into a bun. He only has his sweaty gym clothes in the bathroom with him, so he has to go back out into the bedroom with his towel tied around his waist. His hand trembles as he reaches for the knob, nervously wondering if he’s going to find a submissive Louis or a Louis that needs to be taken down on the other side of the door.

The first thing Harry notices when he enters the bedroom is the smell of smoke. Louis’s not on the bed where Harry told him to be, and after a quick glance around, Harry realizes the boy is standing in front of the slider leading to the balcony, having a cigarette. The heavy drapes over the slider are pulled back just a few inches, and the door is open a crack so Louis can flick his ashes and blow his smoke outside.

Harry’s not sure if Louis has smoked a single cigarette in the past two days, and he understands the addiction, he really does. But Louis knows one of Harry’s biggest pet peeves is smoking inside, not to mention they’re in a hotel full of smoke detectors that could set off at any minute.

“Louis.”

Louis is staring out at the city lights twinkling in the open inch or two of the slider, and he jumps when Harry growls his name. He hastily flicks the end of the cigarette hard enough to snuff it out and tosses the butt outside before yanking the heavy door shut and pulling the drapes back into place.

Harry glares as Louis chews his lip and sits on the edge of the bed where he was supposed to have been all along. Well, if Louis had been aiming to set the mood, he certainly succeeded. Harry walks over to the thermostat on the wall and cranks the air-conditioning up to help clear the room of any lingering smoke, feeling the unfamiliar tingle under his skin as he starts to enter his own headspace.

He hasn’t dominated Louis since tying him to a kitchen chair back home in London—if that even counts, since Louis had taken back the upper hand halfway through. He’s pretty sure the last true time had been over a month ago in Australia, when Louis had drunkenly bit him in the thigh. Harry doesn’t dislike doing it, but it’s still not a natural role for him, and it takes him a little longer than Louis to get into character. Louis pissing him off by smoking in their hotel room had been a helpful start.

He doesn’t want to be naked before Louis, but it seems silly to put clothes on only to take them off again, so he drapes his towel over the back of a chair. Making sure to walk with his spine straight and his shoulders back, proud in his nakedness, he dims down the bedroom lights and finds their Tom Ford bag. Moving slowly to build Louis’s anticipation, he brings it over to the bed, unzips it, and rifles through the contents thoughtfully.

“Harry,” Louis whines.

Harry glances sharply at him, trying to keep the surprise off his face. Louis must really need this if he’s trying to push every one of his buttons. The first thing Harry’s going to have to do is shut him up, or else Louis is going to keep pushing those buttons until they break, and Harry needs to stay in tight control.

He digs in the bag to find a specific gag—a black bar gag with a soft, cylindrical piece for Louis to bite down on, a big silver ring on each side, and leather straps. He sees fear flash through Louis’s bright blue eyes when he pulls it out, and he walks over to where Louis’s sitting on the side of the bed with the gag in his hand.

Crowding into the other boy’s space, Harry wedges himself between Louis’s thighs so they have to open wide for him to fit. Louis’s joggers are soft against Harry’s naked legs, and he hooks his socked feet so his heels dig in just under Harry’s bum, trying to pull him in closer. He leans forward to press his face against Harry’s bare chest, and his fingers twist in the duvet to stop from just completely attaching himself to Harry’s body.

“Hey, hey,” Harry soothes, butterflies blooming in his stomach at Louis’s sudden show of vulnerability, both of their facades cracking. “Do you want to do this? Are you green?”

Louis hesitates a second before nodding his head, his scruff rubbing against Harry’s chest. “Need it,” he whispers.

Harry bites back a yelp as Louis’s nose bumps into the sore spot on his chest where he hit the treadmill. He gently takes the boy by the shoulders and pushes him back, feeling Louis’s legs scramble to tighten around him to keep them close. “Baby, I’m not going to start until you calm down,” Harry says. He cups Louis’s jaw and tilts his head back, bending over to kiss him. He tastes like smoke. “You have to calm down, okay?”

Louis nods, letting his legs drop back down onto the floor but trying to continue their kiss. Harry allows it, since it feels nice, slipping his tongue into Louis’s mouth. He can feel Louis’s pulse hammering beneath his skin where he’s still cupping his jaw, so he rubs his cheeks comfortingly with his thumb. They kiss without hurry until Harry thinks Louis’s heart rate has slowed down somewhere closer to normal. 

“Green?” he asks again, his mouth hovering centimeters from Louis’s.

Louis closes the gap to give him one last hot kiss. “Yes. M’green.”

“Okay.” Harry takes a deep breath before stepping back so their bodies part completely. “Stand up.”

Louis unclenches his fingers from the duvet and stands up, his legs looking almost too weak to hold him. Harry starts stripping him, lifting the t-shirt up over his head and tugging the joggers down to his ankles for him to step out of. Louis toes off his socks, too, and then he’s completely naked, having apparently forgone pants. Harry scoops up the clothes and tosses them out of them away before picking up the gag. 

To Harry’s surprise, Louis opens his mouth without being told. Harry fits the soft, cylindrical bit between his teeth, buckling the leather straps behind his head. Then, he pushes down on Louis’s shoulders until the boy drops to his knees on the carpet. Harry coaxes him forward onto his hands, petting his hair as praise.

“That gag looks good on you,” Harry murmurs as he strokes down Louis’s spine, making him arch and shiver. The big silver rings on either side frame Louis’s cheekbones beautifully, which are especially sharp since his mouth is propped open. “Feel okay?”

Louis nods jerkily, and Harry can hear him trying to figure out how to swallow. Walking back over the leather bag, Harry digs out a pair of handcuffs, a bottle of strawberry flavored lube, and a good-sized magenta vibrator. Then he pulls out a heavy rubber paddle, wiggling it a little to test its flexion and slapping it against his own hand as he debates using it or not. He can at least start with it a little, if Louis can’t handle it for long.

Without letting Louis see what he’s holding, Harry walks around behind him and drops down between Louis’s legs where he’s still waiting on his hands and knees. Up close, Harry can see that Louis is shaking so slightly, probably from a combination of the cold air-conditioning and nerves. He rubs his hands up and down Louis’s thighs and ass, digging his fingers into the muscles to try and help ground him a little, bending down to kiss right between his cheeks.

Louis grunts into his gag, arching his back and spreading his legs wider when he feels Harry’s mouth at his hole. Harry smiles at that reaction before sticking his tongue out and letting just the very tip dance around the puckered skin of Louis’s entrance. He feels Louis try to push back against his face, so he grabs two handfuls of his ass to hold him open and in place.

After a few more minutes of licking teasing circles around Louis’s hole, Harry pops open the bottle of lube, filling the room with the artificially sweet strawberry smell. Drizzling some over Louis’s ass, he lets it drip down over his hole before swirling his fingertip in it. Louis makes soft, breathy sounds through his nose, throwing his head back when Harry finally breaches him with a digit.

Harry leans in and sucks a bruise into the soft skin of Louis’s ass just inches from his entrance as he fucks him with one finger, working it in and out hard and fast. Without breaking rhythm, he adds a second finger, making sure to curl his fingers on every thrust in to just barely press against Louis’s sweet spot. When he can hear Louis start to whine, he scissors open his two fingers and fits his tongue in between, licking into him as deep as he can go.

With his free hand, Harry reaches around Louis’s hip and finds his cock, already so hot and hard between his legs. Resuming finger-fucking him, Harry starts stroking his cock at the same time, working him over with both hands in tandem. Louis lets out a surprised cry around his gag at the sudden increase in pleasure, trying to look over his shoulder to see Harry’s face.

Harry doesn’t stop, watching Louis’s thighs start to tremble and his breathing pick up. He increases his speed until Louis’s body is rocking with the force of Harry’s fingers in his ass, his hand gliding up and down Louis’s cock with the slick of his precome. Harry can feel his hole clenching erratically around his knuckles as he’s hurled toward orgasm.

Louis’s noises change from pants of pleasure to nervous to whines as he gets closer and closer to coming. Harry hasn’t given him permission, but he also hasn’t told him not to, purposefully keeping Louis confused and on edge. Louis knows that’s not how this usually goes—pleasure before pain—and it’s jumbling his brain. Harry grins and twists his wrists at the end of each stroke now, so his palm rubs over the sensitive head of Louis’s cock, still drilling his ass with two fingers and pressing hard against his prostate.

Louis suddenly goes quiet, his entire body tensing and his toes curling. A huge tremor runs through his body, and then Harry feels Louis’s cock jerk in his hand as he starts to shoot, painting the carpet with streaks of white.

“There we go,” Harry murmurs, easing his fingers out of Louis’s clamped and spasming hole.

Harry doesn’t stop stroking Louis’s cock, though, smearing the come still dribbling out it up and down the shaft. Louis whimpers, his muscles twitching hard as Harry keeps touching him despite his oversensitivity, not letting him go soft. Harry kisses over the small of his back; he knows good and well that this doesn’t feel nice for Louis.

Once he’s sure the older boy’s erection is still strong, he sits back on his heels and takes a second to gather his thoughts and check over Louis. When he feels certain that everything is going fine, Harry breathes deeply and moves on with his plan, slathering the magenta vibrator with extra lube and placing it at Louis’s hole.

“Relax,” Harry says, having just felt the force of Louis’s clenching muscles around his own fingers. The vibrator is a decent size, similar to the girth of Harry’s cock, but it’s smooth plastic and slippery with lube, so it should go in easily enough.

He rubs Louis’s side and starts to push the vibrator inside him. He can tell Louis is holding his breath, but Harry doesn’t mention it, just keeps easing the toy inside him. When it’s all the way in, Harry fucks it in and out of him a few times to loosen him up before leaving it fully inserted with only the clear plastic battery cap on the end sticking out.

“Good boy,” Harry whispers, stroking a finger around Louis’s smooth rim where it’s stretched around the bright pink plastic. Then, he hits the button the base that turns on the vibrations. Louis’s elbows buckle and he groans, the noise gurgling in his throat since he can’t swallow properly.

Harry gives him a moment to adjust to the vibrator before picking up the rubber paddle. It’s heavy and flexible, and Harry has never used it on Louis before. He knows from his own experience that it hurts like hell, a different kind of pain than the wooden paddle because of the way the rubber bends back with each swing. Louis’s not used to high levels of pain in the bedroom, so Harry has to make sure to be extra perceptive of his reactions at all times. He feels nervous, but he thinks Louis needs it. He hopes he’s right.

Not trusting Louis to have the self-control to hold still, Harry briefly puts the paddle down in exchange for the pair of handcuffs. Pushing between his shoulder blades, Harry forces Louis’s upper half down, making sure he keeps his ass in the air. Then he takes his wrists one-by-one and tugs them behind his back, securing them with the metal cuffs. Louis’s face is pressed uncomfortably into the rug now, the gag digging into his cheek, and Harry can see that his long eyelashes are already matted with tears.

“You’re okay,” Harry assures him, thumbing away some of the spit on Louis’s chin. He clears his throat, choosing his words carefully and pausing between every sentence to make sure they sink in. “So. I’m going to paddle you ten times. And you’re going to make sure that vibrator doesn’t slip out. Okay? And if it does, I’m going to make you come again.”

Louis shivers, clearly not ready for another orgasm so soon after the last one. But he nods his head, squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation as Harry picks the paddle back up.

Harry slaps it against his own palm, and the sound makes Louis jump and whimper. “Easy,” Harry mumbles. “I’m going to start now, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer; the only sound in the room now is the soft buzzing of the vibrator. He slides the flat of the paddle over the curve of Louis’s ass, pausing at exactly the spot he wants to hit in the center of his right cheek, and then he lifts the paddle up a few inches before bringing it down sharply. The sound is even louder than it had been against his palm, and Louis lets out a muffled cry, his handcuffs rattling as he struggles.

Harry watches as the spot he had struck almost instantaneously blooms with red, in the exact rounded shape of the paddle. He bends down to give the hot skin an open-mouthed kiss, ending it with a sharp nip that makes Louis jerk forward.

“One,” he says. “Don’t let that vibrator fall out, remember.”

He can see Louis squeezing his muscles to try and keep the slippery toy inside his hole as Harry prepares to hit him again. This time, he goes for the same spot on the opposite cheek, bringing it down just a bit harder than he had the first time.

“Two.”

Louis screams as best he can with the gag filling his mouth, the skin around his wrists turning white as he struggles against the cuffs. Harry rubs a hand over the new mark, awed at the heat already coming off his skin. Soon, both cheeks have identical, dark red paddle-shaped marks.

“Three.”

Louis screams even louder on the third hit, since Harry aims it on the sensitive crease between his ass and thigh. Harry feels a twisting sensation in his lower stomach at the pained noise, wondering if he’s doing the right thing for Louis; maybe the paddle is too much.

He gives Louis a pause, taking a few seconds to work the vibrator in and out and swirl it in circles. He doesn’t want Louis to lose his erection, either, so even though he thinks the toy in his hole will make sure of that, he gives him a few firm strokes just to make sure.

“Stay hard for me, baby,” he reminds him. "Four."

Louis’s eyes roll back into his head, overwhelmed by the combination of sensations. He’s drooling all over the carpet, clawing at his back where his hands are cuffed, and his skin is covered in goose bumps from the cold air but also a light sheen of sweat. With one hand still on his Louis’s cock, Harry picks back up the paddle with his other and strikes him again.

He aims poorly, though, and instead of landing next to the first mark, he hits right over it. Louis shrieks, immediately falling onto his side in defense, curling up in the fetal pose and biting down as hard he can on the gag. The change in position makes the slick vibrator pop right out of his body.

Louis writhes on the floor with his eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the burning hot pain to slowly subside, and Harry just stares. Only when Louis stills and stops whimpering does Harry come to his senses enough to turn the vibrator off where it’s still buzzing away on the floor. His first instinct is to apologize, that twisting feeling in his stomach almost nauseating now, but he knows that saying sorry won’t do Louis any good. He has to follow through with his punishment, even though it’s hard.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Harry hums, feigning calmness in order to feel exactly that. “Come on, back on your knees.”

It takes some help, but Louis manages to get back into position on his knees with his face on the floor and his hands still cuffed behind his back. He keeps trying to say something through the gag that sounds an awful lot like ‘no,’ but Harry forces himself not to listen.

He slides the vibrator back into Louis’s hole and turns it on, since it’ll help get Louis to come a second time. Then he settles on his knees at Louis’s side so he can watch his face as he reaches under the boy’s body and starts stroking his cock again.

Louis lets out a long, loud whine followed by a couple sobs as Harry jerks him off hard and fast. Harry realizes with a start that he left Louis no way to color out if he needs to, so without taking his hand off his cock, Harry uses his other hand to unbuckle the gag at the back of Louis’s head. He tries to act casual, like that had been his plan all along, but between paddling Louis in the wrong spot and forgetting to give him an out, Harry is quickly losing any confidence he had managed to find.

Louis spits the bit out once the buckle comes undone, breathing hard between swallows. “Harry, Harry,” he pants.

“I know, Lou, it’s okay,” Harry says, focusing on keeping his voice steady and soothing. He absolutely can’t let Louis see his fear, or else the entire scene will be ruined. Squeezing Louis’s cockhead, he asks, “You gonna come for me again?”

Louis lets out a broken sob, but he nods his head where it’s pressed into the floor. Harry rubs his back with his free hand for a second before grabbing hold of the vibrator again, sticking out from between Louis’s inflamed cheeks, and tilting the end of it up so the tip presses down into Louis’s prostate.

The effect is immediate, Louis’s thighs trembling and his muscles clenching, his whines growing louder and more urgent.

“Come on, you can do it,” Harry encourages, biting his lip in concentration as he increases the speed of his hand stroking Louis’s cock.

Louis’s fingers open and close where they’re cuffed at the small of his back, his knees shifting and his toes digging into the rug. He tilts his head to give Harry one last desperate look before his eyes slam closed and his whole face twists up, his breath catching in his throat as he starts to come a second time.

“Good, good boy, keep that vibrator inside you,” Harry says, watching Louis’s entire body tense and tremble from the force of coming again. He doesn’t release as much this time; there’s only one good shot onto the carpet, the rest seeping onto Harry’s hand, but Harry knows it feels ten times as intense as the first orgasm for Louis. The vibrator doesn’t fall out, despite his clenching muscles.

Harry feels bad to do it, but it’s a critical part of his plan—once Louis stops shooting, he moves his dirty hand aside and keeps stroking Louis with his clean one. Louis realizes what’s happening and whips his head over his shoulder to give Harry a wide-eyed, panicked look.

“Harry, no, no, no, please,” he gasps, his knees giving out as he tries to lower his body to get away from Harry’s hand. The change in position makes him squeeze around the vibrator, though, which rips a pained sob from his chest. “It hurts, it hurts!”

“I know, but you’ve got to stay hard,” Harry explains with feigned patience, sighing when Louis tries to collapse in on himself. “Stay up on your knees, baby. _Now._ ”

Louis shakes his head, yelling when he feels a hand squeeze his balls. “Please!” he begs, struggling to lift himself back up when Harry’s grip tightens. “Please, I-I can’t come again…!”

Harry doesn’t answer, and he lets go of Louis’s balls to continue tugging at his hypersensitive cock until it’s fully hard again, watching the muscles under his skin ripple and jump with the sensation. He tries to block out the heartbreaking whines Louis won’t stop making. The very first time Louis had ever asked Harry to dominate him, Harry had edged him to help him find some inner peace. Now, he prays that these forced multiple orgasms will have the same effect.

Harry’s one hand is still covered in come, and he thinks Louis looks like he needs a brief distraction from the level of pain his cock is in. Using his clean hand again, Harry grips one of Louis’s shoulders and pulls his upper half off the floor, holding him steady for a moment while he reorients himself on his knees with his arms still cuffed behind him. The movement makes the vibrator fall out, but Harry doesn’t say anything about it, and he shuts it off and tosses it aside.

Louis’s cock stands out from his body, angry shades of red and purple and coated with remnants of his two orgasms. He hangs his head, his sweaty fringe falling down over his eyes, his lips swollen from the gag, and his cheeks a splotchy pink. He keeps his knees tight together like a last defense.

“Open up,” Harry says, quiet and firm, kneeling in front of Louis and lifting his dirty hand to his mouth.

Louis’s eyelashes flutter as he tries to understand what Harry’s asking of him. He glances up through his fringe, seeking out Harry’s eyes for confirmation.

Harry just raises his eyebrows. “Open. Up,” he repeats.

Swollen lower lip trembling, Louis opens his mouth. Harry immediately sticks three come-covered fingers in, forcing them past Louis’s tongue and down his throat. Louis’s entire body pitches forward when he gags, and Harry can feel his throat spasming around his fingertips, but he doesn’t stop. He fucks them in and out of Louis’s mouth like he had his ass, making sure they consistently go deep enough to choke him.

Harry knows Louis hasn’t eaten anything all day, or else he never would be doing this. Tears pour out of the boy’s blue, bloodshot eyes, and Harry’s fingers get dirtier rather than cleaner as thick spit from the back of Louis’s throat joins the come on his hand. “Come on, clean them off,” he says, sticking them in far and waiting to feel suction.

Louis gags loudly before desperately trying to swallow around Harry’s fingers to stop the sensation. Harry hums in approval when he feels Louis’s mouth tighten rhythmically around his digits, but when he tries to nudge them in a little bit deeper, Louis jerks his head back and turns away with a wet gasp.

“No, no, none of that now,” Harry scolds. He takes a fistful of hair at the crown of Louis’s head and holds him in place, forcing the fingers of his other hand back into his mouth.

Louis sobs around the intrusion, gagging again. He peels his eyes open to gaze up at Harry as pathetically as he can manage, tears dripping down his reddened face, and Harry has to work hard to steel himself against that look. He removes his fingers just long enough to scrape up some of the come clinging to Louis’s stomach from one of his orgasms before feeding it to him.

Harry keeps repeating the action, finding bits of come on Louis’s body and the floor and sticking them down his throat, not stopping until Louis can hardly catch a full breath. Harry wants to move onto the next part of his plan, but he realizes that he’s been so distracted with making Louis come that he hasn’t given one thought to his own cock; he’s not even hard.

“Bet you need something bigger than fingers in there, don’t you?” Harry asks, to which Louis responds with a miserable, breathless moan. The boy’s eyelashes are so wet with tears he can hardly see through them, and the lower half of his face is covered in spit. When Harry finally removes his fingers, Louis drops forward, his head falling against Harry’s chest.

The sudden urge to hug and coddle Louis overwhelms Harry; it’s so, so hard for him to see tears and hear crying and not try to comfort—especially when he’s the cause of the tears and crying. But this is _for_ Louis, he keeps reminding himself; Louis had _asked_ for this. He _needs_ it.

“Come on, love,” Harry murmurs as he stands up, his legs weak from having been kneeling for so long. “Need you to suck me off now.”

He nudges Louis’s knees with his foot until he parts them so Harry can stand between them, his soft cock right in front of Louis’s face. Louis stares at it, dumbstruck like he’s never one before, so Harry reaches down to tug his lower jaw open and slide into his mouth. He distantly hopes Louis’s reaction is a hint at the beginning of subspace and not an insult to his manhood or something.

“Suck it,” he orders, since Louis’s mouth is slack around him. He moves one of his feet forward until his shin presses hard against Louis’s erection and balls, which seems to spur him into motion.

Louis doesn’t give the most enthusiastic blow job of his life, but Harry figures he’s doing the best he can after what Harry’s put him through. It’s warm and wet and it’s Louis, which is enough to get Harry hard anyway. As his cock fills out, he starts thrusting lightly in and out Louis’s mouth, keeping a gentle rhythm that the older can boy can follow without gagging too much.

“Feels good,” Harry mumbles, pinching at his own nipples to help his erection along. “So good, Louis, yeah, just like that. Gotta get me hard so I can fuck you.”

Louis splutters around him at the mention of being fucked, and Harry wonders if Louis had really thought that wouldn’t be a part of tonight. After all this, Harry desperately needs the closeness—he can’t imagine Louis not feeling the same. Pushing those thoughts aside, he carefully detaches Louis’s mouth from his cock and drops back down onto his knees so that they’re face-to-face. He cups Louis’s tearstained cheeks in his hands, leaning in to kiss his spit-slick lips.

“You’re being so good, I’m so proud of you,” he whispers between kisses. Louis weakly reciprocates, sucking at Harry’s lower lip. “Can’t wait to be inside you. Come on, babe, let’s get on the bed.”

He unlocks the handcuffs from Louis’s wrists, taking a few moments to kiss the rings of red there from all of Louis’s struggling. Louis watches him carefully, like he’s afraid Harry will stick something in one of his orifices at any second, but Harry just tugs Louis’s body off the floor and guides him on top of the mattress.

“Still hard for me, my good boy,” he adds when he lays Louis out on his back and sees his erection is still strong against his tummy. When Harry reaches it for it though, Louis lets out a high-pitched noise and tries to scramble backward on his elbows.

“D-don’t,” he pleads, his voice wrecked from Harry’s fingers down his throat. Fresh tears fill his eyes.

Harry shushes him, taking him by the hips and dragging him back down the bed. “You’re okay, it’ll feel good,” he promises. To prove his point, he ducks his head in and sucks Louis’s cock into his mouth. 

Louis sobs at the sensitivity, his stomach muscles tightening as he reflexively curls in on himself. “Too much, it’s too much, I can’t come again!” he cries, gripping the sheets to stop from gripping Harry’s hair.

Harry pulls his mouth off with a pop, giving the darkened head of Louis’s erection one last kiss before straightening up. Louis’s chest heaves with his panting, the blue of his eyes shimmering as the bedroom light reflects off his tears. Leaning over, Harry gives Louis’s lips a chaste, closed-mouth kiss.

“Yes. You can.”

Louis squeezes his eyes shut at that, sending the tears streaking down his cheeks. Harry steels himself and grabs Louis from behind the knee, bending his legs back and open so Harry can line his erection up to his entrance. In this position, he sees the mottled marks on Louis’s ass from the paddle. His hole is already slick and stretched from earlier, so all Harry does it spit down on his own cockhead for some extra lubrication before starting to push inside.

Louis arches his back and chokes on a whine like he’s never taken Harry’s cock before, and when Harry bottoms out, the fronts of his thighs are pressing into the paddle bruises. Louis is going to feel it with every thrust, Harry realizes.

“That’s it, babe, you feel so good, so tight,” Harry says, enjoying a little pleasure after focusing on Louis’s for so long as he pulls back out and slams in.

Louis’s entire body moves beneath him with the force of Harry’s movements, which causes Louis to wraps his legs around Harry’s waist to stay in place. Harry smiles, and Louis lets go of the sheets to make grabby hands at Harry’s shoulders.

Harry bends over so Louis can lock his arms around his neck, their torsos only millimeters apart. Kissing the boy’s damp hairline, he maintains his brutal pace, knocking breathy groans out of Louis with every thrust. After a few minutes, he covers Louis’s lips with his own and reaches between them to find Louis’s cock.

As expected, Louis screams into his mouth, squirming beneath him as Harry makes a loose circle with his fingers and runs it up and down his shaft. “No, please!” he begs, words muffled against Harry’s lips. The sensitivity in his cock makes his channel clench so hard around Harry that he can hardly move inside him.

“Easy, shh,” Harry tries, feeling Louis’s fingernails bite into his shoulders. “Just one more time for me, okay?”

Louis shakes his head hard, digging his heels into the small of Harry’s back. “Can’t, can’t,” he pants, his spine lifting off the mattress when Harry’s fingers don’t stop stroking him.

“I know you can,” Harry insists, only able to thrust an inch or so in and out of Louis’s body now with how tense he is. “Do it for me? Please?”

“Hurts,” Louis says, and Harry feels a huge tremor run through the boy’s body beneath him.

Harry considers offering Louis the option to jerk himself off instead, wondering if that might be easier for him, but then he decides he really wants to be the one to make Louis come a third time that night. He had known this would be hard, but he has to push Louis through it, past what the older boy thinks his threshold is. _That’s_ what’s going to make him feel better.

“One more time, you can do it.” Harry tightens his fingers around Louis’s cock and increases his speed, preparing himself for Louis to thrash underneath him.

Louis clamps down even harder around him, locking Harry inside him, his arms and legs tightening until their bodies are pressed so strongly together that they’re practically one being. Harry can barely move his hand anymore, but it doesn’t matter. Louis is coming.

His mouth is right next to Harry’s ear, so Harry hears every heart wrenching, agonizing noise he makes. All of Louis’s muscles rhythmically clench as he rides out the most intense, borderline painful orgasm of his life, clinging to Harry so the younger boy feels every single tremor like it’s his own.

“My good boy, so good, I knew you could do it,” Harry whispers over and over, waiting for Louis to release him so he can pull out and come himself. It takes such a long time for Louis’s limbs to slacken that it makes Harry nervous.

“Easy, easy, you’re done now, shh.”

As Louis melts back down onto the mattress, Harry is able to let go of his cock. There’s not a lot of come on Louis’s stomach or Harry’s hand, since he had hardly shot at all, so Harry pulls his own cock out of Louis’s hole and aims over his heaving torso. He takes his concentration off of Louis for thirty seconds while he brings himself to orgasm, spilling all over the other boy’s abs.

As Harry’s squeezing the last drop of come out of his slit, he realizes Louis is crying—truly crying, not just a few tears and sobs from pain. Harry had been aiming to break down Louis’s defenses so he could deal with his feelings, yes, but the reality of seeing him cry is still a lot to stomach. Now, though, Harry can coddle him like he’d wanted to before.

Sitting back against the headboard, Harry pulls Louis’s limp, trembling body onto his lap, situating him sideways so Louis can bury his face in his neck. “Let it out, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Harry whispers. “It’s okay, everything’s okay, I love you so much.”

Louis cries for a long time.

The crack in Harry’s heart splinters with every sob and with every tear that soaks his skin. It’s freezing cold in the room from the air conditioning, so he tugs the duvet over mostly Louis (minding the come on his stomach) and tries to come up with an aftercare plan. That’s always his biggest flaw in dominating—he doesn’t prepare for the after part.

He’s broken out of his thoughts by Louis moving his head to wipe his tears on Harry’s skin and pressing too hard against the bruise on his chest from the treadmill. Jumping a little with a hiss, Harry shifts his shoulder so Louis’s head lolls backward.

Louis’s crying quiets. “Wha-what’s wrong?” he asks as he straightens up, his voice thick and weak.

Harry shakes his head, smoothing his fingers over Louis’s fringe and trying to coax him back down. “Nothing, m’fine.”

Louis rubs the backs of his hands over his eyes to try and clear away some of the wetness, sniffling as his sobs die away. “I hurt you,” he says, his eyes filling with fresh tears.

“No, no, no,” Harry assures him, thumbing away the newest tears as they start to roll down Louis’s cheeks. It amazes him that after what he had just put Louis through, Louis can still only think of what he had done to Harry. “It’s just a bruise, I’m _fine_ , I promise.” 

Louis goes quiet, sitting up in Harry’s lap and tracing the pad of his index finger over the darkening spots on Harry’s chest. Harry lets him, hoping that it’ll prove to Louis that he’s not _really_ hurt. 

“Love,” he starts softly after a minute. “Will you be okay if I go get a few things?”

Lou pauses, but he nods and slides off of Harry’s lap. Trying to move quickly so he can return quickly, Harry throws on boxer shorts and a t-shirt. Then, he goes into the bathroom to get a wet and a dry towel and some lotion, finds Louis’s joggers and t-shirt on the floor from earlier, and grabs a water bottle, a banana, and a bag of M&Ms from the suite’s kitchen and minibar. Louis is in the exact same position when Harry rejoins him bed, depositing all the items on the bedside table.

“Gonna clean you up now,” Harry explains, easing Louis down onto his back.

He uses the wet towel to clean off Louis’s face first, since it’s crusted with drying tears and spit, and he pats it dry with the second towel. Next, he wipes the come off Louis’s stomach, occasionally glancing up at his eyes as the older boy watches his every move. A quick swipe between his legs cleans up most of the lubricant there. “Can you turn over please?” he asks, swapping out the towel for the bottle of lotion. 

Louis rolls onto his stomach obediently, and Harry bites his lip when he gets a good look at the marks on Louis’s bum. They’ve darkened over time, especially the one Harry hit twice, and he can’t help but bend down to give the spot a feather-light kiss. Louis hums into the duvet, kicking his feet a little.

“This might sting,” Harry warns as he pours some of the aloe lotion onto his palms and rubs them together to warm it up. Louis holds his breath as Harry starts smoothing it over his sore cheeks, but he stays still despite the pain.

When that’s done, Harry helps Louis get back into his big t-shirt, which comes down way past Louis’s hips. The older boy shakes his head at the joggers, though, and Harry lets him have his way; it’s not worth fighting over. Sitting back up against the headboard again, Harry pats his legs.

Louis is still quiet as he climbs back onto Harry’s lap, trying not to put too much weight on his backside. Once he’s situated sideways the way Harry likes, with his legs hooked over Harry’s thigh, Harry reaches for the water bottle on the bedside table and uncaps it. Carefully, he lifts it to Louis’s lips and tilts it. Louis doesn’t even move a hand to try to do it himself; he just sucks at the bottle and trusts Harry not to spill or choke him. 

When half of it is gone, Harry pulls it away, leaving Louis slightly breathless. “You have to eat something now,” Harry murmurs, grabbing the banana and peeling it from the bottom. He breaks off the tip and eats it himself, because he knows Louis won’t eat that part, and then breaks off another piece and holds it to Louis’s mouth. 

Louis purses his lips and makes a face, eying the bag of M&Ms on the table.

“Fruit first,” Harry insists, pressing the piece of banana to Louis’s lower lip. “Come on, you’ve been through a lot, and you haven’t eaten all day. This’ll help you feel better. Please?”

Louis rolls his tear-swollen eyes but finally opens up. Harry feeds him gently, almost surprised Louis still trusts him so much after what Harry had just done to his mouth. While Louis chews, Harry breaks off another small piece and readies it. 

It feels good to feed him and take care of him, Harry thinks as Louis eats the whole banana bit by bit. Harry tosses the peel onto the table, and when he doesn’t immediately pick up the bag of candy, Louis squirms and whines.

Harry smiles for the first time in a while. He rubs Louis’s bare thigh and kisses his temple. “Just wait a few minutes please,” he says. “Don’t want you to get sick.” 

“Fine,” Louis huffs. After a minute, though, he turns his head and presses a kiss to Harry’s jaw. “I love you.”

Harry feels his heart swell, the corners of his eyes prickling against a sudden urge to cry. “I love you, too,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around Louis and holding him tight. “I love you so, so much.”

“I’m sorry I came down to the gym,” Louis says, tucking his head under Harry’s chin. “Alberto yelled at me, too. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay,” Harry assures him. “I left you alone for too long.”

“I don’t know how to handle stuff like this,” Louis confesses, straightening up a little as Harry gets the bag of M&Ms and tears open a corner. “You know…people leaving.”

Harry fishes out a blue candy and feeds it to Louis; it’s so small that Louis has to suck on his fingers a little to eat it. “I think,” Harry starts, choosing his words carefully. “You have to think of it more like… Zayn left the band. He didn’t leave you.” 

“Feels like he did,” Louis mumbles, dropping his gaze down to his lap. “I haven’t felt like this since…” 

He doesn’t have to finish. Harry knows he’s talking about Mark, the man who’s not even his biological father but had raised him like he was, only to divorce Louis’s mom when Louis was a teenager. The two adults had parted amicably, but Louis had never forgotten the sting of abandonment—especially coupled with the fact that his birth father had wanted no part in his life until Louis became famous. 

Harry feeds Louis two more M&Ms, hoping a little bit of sugar will help him get some energy back and feel better. “You’ll survive this just like you survived that,” Harry promises him. He pokes Louis’s tummy with the hand not holding the bag of candy. “You have to me this time.” 

Louis lets out a dry laugh, but it’s a laugh all the same, so Harry counts it as a victory. “Let’s not bring my daddy issues into this, okay?” he says wryly. 

Harry doesn’t bother pointing out that Louis had been the one to bring up Mark, instead feeding the boy another chocolate. Louis nips at his fingertips this time where they’re stained rainbow colors from the melting candy shells. 

“Too slow,” he whines, trying to grab the bag from Harry’s hand. “I want more, gimme.”

Harry grins, holding the bag out of Louis’s reach and kissing the skin beneath his eyes where it’s puffy from crying. “Do you feel better now though?” Harry asks, his tone going serious. 

Louis nods, licking a bit of chocolate off the corner of his mouth. “Yes. Thank you. I know that’s…hard for you. To do. And…yeah, thanks.” 

“Just as hard as it is for you to ask for it,” Harry teases, glancing down pointedly at his bruised chest. 

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Louis wails. He turns so he’s properly straddling Harry’s thighs and then presses soft, open-mouthed kisses all along Harry’s bruises. 

Harry sucks in a breath, feeling Louis’s lips and warm tongue along his sensitive skin. He doesn’t have the energy for another round, though—and he thinks he’s safe to assume Louis doesn’t either—so he lets out a little moan and asks, “You want to come one more time?” 

As expected, Louis shoots backward off his lap, staring at Harry in horror. “No, I bloody well do not!” he exclaims. “I didn’t even know I could come _three_ times, let alone four.” 

“You did brilliantly,” Harry says, holding the candy tight in his hand and crawling forward to climb on top of Louis, knocking him back onto the mattress. He kisses him deeply, unhurriedly. “I’ve never seen you be that good.”

“I can be good,” Louis huffs, nipping at Harry’s bottom lip. “Sometimes.” While Harry is distracted with kisses, Louis snatches the M&Ms out of his hand, grinning and trying to hold it above his head where Harry can’t reach.

 

\- _Louis_ -

Harry falls asleep well before Louis, completely drained from his dominating stint. The white sheets are stained with smears of bright colors from the M&Ms, and Harry has a streak of chocolate under his lip. Louis props himself up onto his elbow so he can watch the younger boy sleep. 

His body is sore, but it’s a good soreness, a nice reminder of their night that will stay with him for a few days. It has replaced the restlessness inside him that had made him want to tear out of his skin, and he has Harry to thank for that. He’s looking forward to getting a good night’s sleep tonight, but he also has no plans to spend the next day in bed.

It’s time to get up, move on, and continue living his life.

The pain of Zayn leaving is still fresh and sharp, but Louis knows it won’t kill him. It won’t kill their band, either; the rest of them are in it for the long haul. He hopes that for him, unlike Zayn, the novelty of performing in front of tens of thousands of people will never wear off, because it’s truly the best feeling in the world. He never wants to stop; he never wants to take all the luck they’ve had for granted. And he’ll always have Harry by his side, to pick him back up when life knocks him down like this. 

Harry is sprawled out on his back with his arms splayed above him, head turned toward Louis. His soft breaths blow his curls along the pillowcase, his eyelashes dark against his fair cheeks. The duvet is pulled up over his chest, thankfully hiding the bruises that make Louis’s stomach churn with guilt every time he sees them. Next time he needs Harry, he vows, he will just use his words and _ask him_. 

Looking at Harry the way he is now, all soft and innocent in sleep, Louis can hardly believe it’s the same boy who had just tied him up and gagged him, spanked him, fucked him, fed him his own come, and made him orgasm three times in a row. 

Overwhelmed by a rush of affection for the living, breathing, beautiful paradox that is his boyfriend, Louis snuggles up tight to his side and kisses the chocolate stain on his chin. Harry chokes on a loud snore before cracking an eye open. 

“Go back to sleep,” Louis whispers, shimmying down so he can pillow his head on the crook of Harry’s arm and chest, minding his bruises. 

“Are you okay?” Harry mumbles, eyes falling closed again. 

“Never better,” Louis replies. “Just…love you a lot, is all.” 

Harry smiles with deep dimples, and Louis knows he’ll be just as in love with this boy today and fifty years from now as he was in those bathrooms so long ago.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://ropewithnoanchor.tumblr.com) if you want to follow and chat! The "official" post to reblog should you want to recommend my fic (!) is [here](http://ropewithnoanchor.tumblr.com/post/122215207261/we-keep-taking-turns-part-2-2-of-the-spaces).


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